


The Football

by Jeneral2885



Category: JAG, NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-27 19:24:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2703650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeneral2885/pseuds/Jeneral2885
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skates is posted to Washington DC to carry the world's most powerful briefcase. But it turns out not to be a normal assignment. Features some JAG characters and some NCIS characters, though not classified as as crossover. AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_The President referred here is not that of any present or past US President, although based on the JAG timeline and thus years, it is around the mid-2000s._

_I, the author, have no knowledge of US nuclear command and control structure, and thus definitely no idea of how the US nuclear briefcase, or "The Football" really works. Most of what is described here is derived from previous movies and fiction books, plus quite a big of imagination._

_This story is set just after Harm was cleared of murder charges against Lieutenant Singer and around the episode "Lawyers, Guns, and Money." I've tweaked it so there's no mention of he Turner case and it helps by eliminating Mac from the picture—again!_

_Before any of you comment that Skates as a NFO/WSO shouldn't be an instructor, I'm stretching the aviator training part. Besides, it's fiction._

**Tidal Basin, Washington DC**

**0500 hours**

It wasn't the job she dreamed of, not after travelling thousands of miles and navigating through tons of paperwork to reach this capital city. Martina Gomez was her name, a Bolivian girl who was born into poverty and nearly being forced into prostitution. Martina was not exactly her original first name; the missionaries who found her cramped in a truck gave it to her after they failed to pronounce her original name. But it was them and their organisation that brought her to what she heard was the "Land of Opportunities". Martina always wanted to be a cook—she had seen her mother work tediously in the kitchen before the lady passed away. But once Martina arrived in the city, no outlet, even the smallest food stall wanted to employ her. "We take in our own first," was the common answer she got, although she failed to understand the meaning. Finally, she found this position of a park cleaner. It certainly was not her dream, but at least it would give her some American dollars to repay those who helped her along the way, plus increase her chances of living in a better accommodation.

The job demanded her to rise early, though it was not something new to Martina. Despite the odd hours, Martina was always on time, her cleaning trolley squeaking and thus breaking the silence of the morning. The only people she would disturb were those homeless vagrants sleeping on the sidewalks or underneath the various trees. By now, many of them were used to their wakeup morning call and she would return their greetings.

It was just as she turned the corner when she spotted a huge lump on the ground. Moving closer, she could tell it was a human body, and she guessed it was another homeless person sleeping out in the Tidal Basin. The morning wind suddenly blew, and she caught a strong stench coming from that lump. Gently poking it with her broomstick, she let out a scream as a horde of flies burst out from the shape.

**USS Patrick Henry**

**Somewhere in the Mediterranean**

**Thirty six hours later**

"No... a little higher, a little higher, damn it, I said a little higher. Don't easy back too sudden...oh... SHIT!" Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth "Skates" Hawkes braced herself and closed her eyes thinking this was the end...no the beast she was in suddenly stopped. Skates snapped her eyes open and shook her head. Yes, she was back on the Henry, the ship was bobbing up and down, the multi-coloured shirts were buzzing around the deck. A snap-hiss, and the canopy was opened.

"We're back, ma'am," the FA/-18 F pilot, Lieutenant Christopher "Buzz" Stead remarked, as he lifted himself out of the "front seat" and climbed down. Seconds later, Skates got out to, but shrugged away the protruded hand that offered to help her down. Drawing up to her full five feet and two inches, she bellowed, "What the hell were you trying to do, Lieutenant? Commit Suicide?!"

"I was correcting my approach..."

"And I was giving you crystal clear instructions ! Damnit all to hell, Buzz, this is the fourth time you've not been listen to me as your instructor! Look," she gestured, "you caught the 'one wire' yet again! What is your wish? To be a proper aviator or to have an early death?"

"Ma'am..." But before the green naval aviator could reply, Skates stormed off to the hatch and in her rage collided into her Squadron XO, Commander Billy "Panther" Dawkins. "Easy there, Skates, I know you're having a rough time with the newbies."

"Rough time Panther? It's hell the minute I enter the cockpit with those guys. I can't recall aviators this clumsy since my time as a Tomcat RIO and now as Super Hornet WSO," she groaned at her superior. Technically she should have addressed a superior with more courtesy, but Panther and Skates has a close working relationship.

"Missing the ol' Tomcat and Batman aviators, Skates?" His comment brought waves of memories of her time with her old squadron. The aggressive and reckless X-Man, the arrogant Bommer, the by-the-book Tuna and of course, the best of the best, Harmon Rabb. Skates missed Harm as her main driver. He as an aviator was everything that a back-seater ever wanted...

"By the way, I was expecting to run into you. The Big Man wanted to see you in person. Now." The "Big Man" was the informal name for the task group commander, Rear Admiral (Upper Half) Gordon Lawrence.

"The Big Man? What ever...I haven't done anything wrong have I?"

"Not that I recall. But seeing the Admiral when none of us poor ol' aviators haven't has got to mean something big. Good luck with him."

Super Freakin' Shit, Skates thought, passing her helmet to a passing Petty Officer to stow. Her XO was right, there was something amiss when a two-star ask to see you in person.

"Enter," cam the sharp reply to her knock. She did so and snapped immediately to attention. "Lieutenant Commander Hawkes reporting as ordered, sir!"

"I hear you just let loose you anger and the new aviators, Commander?" The Admiral started, rising from his desk. He was a six foot two tall man and most definitely towered over her. "Sir," she replied, hoping this wasn't going to be a long critical review of her training procedures. "I do apolo..."

"At ease Commander, you've not on trial here for your training or how you handle your juniors. Have a seat," he gestured to be cushion chairs, the luxury which was entitled to senior officers. With a sigh of relief but a bout of curiosity mounting, she did so and he dropped an-inch thick red-covered file onto her lap, the words "TOP SECRET Level Four" typed diagonally across the cover.

"You might wonder why I called you straight up here and why an old foggy sailor like me wants to see a young O-4 like you," he continued, noting her momentary shock. "Go a head, open the file." Flipping through the first few pages, Skates stopped at page three which read:

Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth Catherine Hawkes, USN to report to the White House Communications Agency section, White House Military Office, Washington D.C. to hold and protect the Nuclear Briefcase that links the National Command Authority to the nation's...

"Oh my gosh, I'm to carry the Nuclear Football?!" she gasp out loud. Coming from a family who lived in various cities along the East Coast, she had heard stories from her relatives about the scare of nuclear war, with SAC Bombers flying over head, nuclear shelter drills and city evacuations. She especially heard stories of how her elder relatives thought the Cuban Missile Crisis would really go nuclear and flew away to South America. In college, she took a module on Cold War History and thus learnt the political and military implications, including the formation of the nuclear briefcase. "I mean sir, this is really a shock. I...I thought you have to have special clearance or something..."

"Yankee White clearance. It is special but not something that extraordinary. Those higher up probably did a good background check before sending you this change of orders."

"But..." Skates was slightly disturbed that they was, or could have been, a background check on her life or her whole family without her knowing, but remembered she was in the United States military. "...I thought you have to be someone special or something to carry the Football. I mean, sir, I've never been posted to STRATCOM or a any special weapons post or anything like that. My whole career has been as a NFO on carriers."

"You don't have to be. In fact Commander, I myself had a six month duty of carrying the football, not even having had a high command position myself. Besides, you're Tomcat and Super Hornet Wizzo right? The latter is still cleared to drop B61 bombs and I'm sure you were taught how to."

"Oh..yeah those," she vaguely remembered that part of her conversion from the F-14 to the F/A-18 E/F. "But really sir, what exactly will I be doing? Being handcuffed to a huge suitcase everyday and walking behind the President?"

The Carrier Strike Group Commander gave a short laugh that did not exactly easy her anxiety. "Commander, you've been reading too many science fiction novels or watching Hollywood shows. No officer carrying the Football ever gets handcuffed to the device; you basically carry it like a normal carry-on bag. You don't just walk and sit with it 24/7: There are mock SIOP exercises where you will play a key role, evacuation drills and liaising drills with the Pentagon and STRATCOM, observing global nuclear weapons proliferation and other tasks given by the WHCA or WHMO." SIOP, as Skates learnt before enlisting, was the Single Integrated Operations Plan, the fancy US political-military plan for global nuclear war. The Football was a key part in SIOP; without utilising it to end launch authorisation codes and targets, US nuclear weapons could never be released. WHCA was the White House Communications Agency while WHMO was the White House Military Office.

"But sir," Skates began another adamant line. "Can I respectfully decline this posting? I mean, yeah I might be clearing to hold the world's most dead briefcase but really, I don't think I have the capacity to be such a staff officer..."

"Commander, these orders came up from high and are final. I know you're apprehensive about holding the world's most deadly briefcase. However, it's not that boring or terrible a task as you think it will be. Besides, it brings you direct into the heart of the military apparatus and who knows, if you do your job well, you may get a sling shot into a top command position, way head of your colleagues here."

Skates wanted to object yet again but thought about it slowly. She really did enjoy her life onboard carriers, and despite the training challenges, carrier life was her life ever since she signed on to be a US Navy Officer. On the other hand, taking this posting, would, as the Admiral remarked, bring her close to high-ranking and high-flying officials and the chance to network with them. She flipped through the file and continued "Uhm, sir, but there's no PCS or COLA form here. Am I suppose to find my own accommodation?" PCS meant "Permanent Change of Station", the term for military personnel posting to a new unit while COLA was "Cost of Living Allowance", additional funding for personnel deployed to new locations within the US or abroad.

"It's a DOD posting and a Joint Forces posting, Commander. You can find your own place if you want to, but 95 or 99% of the time you'll be with the President or his staff, on the road wherever he goes and hardly staying in one location at anytime. I stayed in the Marine Barracks at 8th and I Street, pretty good facilities over there and free chow. I hope that settles all your worries? Go ahead and pack up and clear your duties here. Good luck and Godspeed, Lieutenant Commander Hawkes. I'm sure you'll do us all proud."

Skates snapped to attention and headed back to her quarters. DC, White House here I come she thought. Damn if I have to stay with the Marines all the way. I know just who to call...

**US Navy JAG Headquarters**

**Washington Naval Yard**

**About 24 Hours Later**

"Damnit, ring!" Commander Harmon Rabb swore, as he disconnected and reconnected his room phone for the umpteenth time. NCIS had done a "marvellous" job ransacking his office and misplacing many items. They also did a great job of disconnecting his internet and intranet terminals so much that he had to call technicians six times over to reset it. The rest of his office stuff was finally but slowly replaced, but his phone was still giving him trouble, forcing him to use the administration office phones to take calls and dial out.

Not that there were many phone calls for him. Ever since his name was cleared, Admiral Chegwidden has "punished" him by distributing the high-level cases and Article 32 investigations to the other staff and detailing him only occasional simple and boring cases and administrative work. Harm wasn't even allowed to sit second chair with his close colleagues Sturgis Tuner and Bud Roberts. Basically, he had been sidelined while everyone else save Lieutenant Colonel Mackenzie was provided with proper work. Mac was attached to the CIA, specifically with Harm's friend/fiend Clayton Webb. Somewhere in Paraguay, she told him. The typical "need to know" crap from the CIA. He had tried to dissuade her from taking the assignment and warned her of the dangers but her usual stubbornness said no to him. Harm was basically left alone with nothing to do and no close partner to turn to. Well, maybe not today, he corrected. Bud Roberts had asked him for lunch to discuss a case Bud was handling. That kid is certainly turning into a fine lawyer, Harm thought, remembering the court room "battles" with him. One day he'll...

"Knock!" "Excuse me sir, there's a phone call for you," Harm sat up in his seat to see Lieutenant Harriett Sims, the office administration head and Bud's wife at his door.

"Oh," he replied, not expected any calls, given his "isolation". "Who is it Harriett?"

"Oh, someone you know. Someone both of us know," she grinned.

"Come on, it can't be a secret. Who is it Lieutenant?" Is it Mac, he thought? Would she be calling to update him?

"Take the call sir and find out," she indicated to a phone.

"Commander Rab..." He began.

"Hiya Hammer!" the familiar voice burst through his right ear...

"Skates?!" He exclaimed. Then catching Harriet's grin, Harm understood the earlier conversation. Harriet after all started off as the PAO on the USS Seahawk, where Harm first met Skates.

"Just point and shoot!" She gave her usual call. "Yes sir, it's me. I'm back, States side, just posted back to the old US of A. In fact, I'm in DC right now."

"Oh wow uh Skates, certainly a surprise. We've got to catch up on our stories..."

"Uh yeah Harm that's why I was calling. I'm only free now and wondering if you could meet up?"

"Oh," he glanced at the room clock. "You caught me on my schedule, Skates. I'm going to have lunch with Bud Roberts..."

"Bud Roberts? The junior JAG with you during the Seahawk investigation?"

"Yeah, you remember him. Say, if it's ok with you, you could meet both of us? Our lunch is suppose to be about a case but don't worry, you can fit in. Do you know Tingey Street, the Potbelly outlet? [1] We're going there."

"Potbelly," he heard the scribbling of a pen. "Righto, Harm. See you there!"

[1] This is a real outlet near the Washington Navy Yard in DC. I've never been there despite staying in DC for a couple of months.

To Be Continued...


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for the reviews. Not sure of the ordering system in Potbellys plus not caring about the dishes on their menu, which can be found online._

_This chapter refers back to Season Episode 19, where Bud (ugh!) gets to handle the nuclear football. Technically, as a Staff Corps officer, ie., a JAG, Baud should not be assigned the football at all—he would never have been trained in nuclear weapons procedures or doctrine (he was a PAO, then Administrative Officer then JAG). Skates, based on JAG storyline is a NFO, but as I mentioned in Chapter 1, she converted to the Super Hornet, which in US doctrine (I believe) has the ability to drop nuclear bombs. That's as close to reality as fiction gets._

_I'm not sure about the US Navy's/DOD's PCS/staff officers posting. Let's just say Skates sudden PCS is the mystery to be revealed later._

**Potbelly Outlet**

**Tingey Street, Washington DC**

Fifteen minutes later, Harm and Bud, both in their summer whites, entered the bustling famous sandwich, salad and soup outlet that was frequented by many Navy personnel. Amidst the seas of uniforms, the diminutive frame of Harm's former RIO was easily spotted. As if on instinct, she spun around and yelled, "Harm!"

"It's so good to see you...Lieutenant Commander?!" Harm exclaimed finally getting a look at her shoulder boards. "Congratulations, Commander Hawkes, very well done!"

"Thank you, sir, one step closer to you," she smiled her famous smile. "Nice to see you again, Lieutenant Roberts. I understand from Harriett that you two are happily married with children."

"Yes ma'am, and congratulations on your promotion." Harm steered the trio to a nearby table. Just then a civilian bumped into Skates. "Hey!" she cried but the dark skinned man had scooted out of the establishment in top speed. Shaking her head, they all settled down and ordered. Bud had a tomato soup with garlic bread, Harm ordered a roasted vegetable six inch sandwich with fries while Skates settled for a Caesar Salad. "So," she began, "any big news at JAG?"

"Oh, nothing much for me. Bud here is getting more cases, I'm just sitting and advising," Harm replied, hoping he would not have to bring up the exact reasons for his lack of courtroom assignments.

"I heard through scuttlebutt you had a couple of adventures. Like being sent into the deep areas of Afghanistan on some important hunt. Then violating all known practices on aerial flying, saving a CVBG and getting that Silver Star on your chest. Plus, I caught the last part of the ZNN story where you were unfortunately injured Bud." She gave a sympathetic look to Lieutenant.

"Yeah," the stocky Lieutenant replied, recalling that painful incident.

"Skates...al...most of that is classified..." Harm then stop short in admonishing his former partner. Skates was of course a NFO, now an O-4 and one with possibly high clearance. His manoeuvre to save the Seahawk wasn't exactly Top Secret since part of the crew and his former RIO Lieutenant Jorgenson witnessed it. Neither was Bud's land mine accident classified.

"How's things on your end, ma'am?" Bud returned the question.

"Oh the usual. Now relegated to training the newbies and having a heart attack every time they screw up a landing. It's a PITA." PITA was the acronym for "Pain in the ass."

"So the million dollar question Lieutenant Commander Hawkes: What brings you back home over here?"

Just then, the waitress came with their orders and drinks. Skates shifted her chair and took a sip of Pepsi, waiting for the waitress to move further away.

"Skates?" Harm prompted her.

"Oh, sorry. The Powers That Be actual said not to tell any one. But since I'm amongst friends, I guess can say tell you both: I've been tasked to hold the Nuclear Football." She whispered the phrase, lest the rest of the clientele heard her.

Both Harm's and Bud's eyes widen in momentary amazement and the latter gave a rather loud wow, and nearly knocked over his soup. "Congratulations!" both of them said in unison with Bud adding the respectful word "Ma'am."

"Thanks, enormous responsibility, heh," she replied, placing a fork-ful of mayonnaise-covered chicken breast and lettuce in her mouth.

"Well yeah, you get to carry a device so precious that you can't lose it and can't lose sight of POTUS. Well, Bud here did once," Harm grinned, patting his companion on the back.

'Oh...sir, please don't remind of that incident," Bud wailed as Skates put on a look of puzzlement. The chubby Lieutenant reluctantly recounted the time he excused himself to the bathroom and lost the Presidential entourage, thus having to walk all the way back to the White House. "Don't worry ma'am, I'm sure you won't...face that scenario." Bud paused a bit as the ringing of his cell phone interrupted him.

"' Scuse me," he muttered. "Yes, yes this is Lieutenant Roberts...what? Oh dear, ok, I'll be there ASAP."

"Sorry sir, new development regarding my client. Have to go." With that he scooped him his soup with amazing speed. "Sorry to break the party. Nice seeing you again ma'am," and with that, the young JAG left.

Harm turned back to Skates and continued, "Ok, Skates, spill it."

"What do you mean?" she said, sort of guessing what was coming.

"I know that look you have on and I haven't seen it since you had those panic attacks back on the Patrick Henry."

"Oh Super Shit, Harm," she finally admitted and swore. "Remind me never to play poker with you." Taking another sip of her drink, she continued, "it's just this whole posting. I'm not cut out for this sorta thing."

"What's wrong with it? It's quite a high profile staff position and..."

"That's the point. I've spent my life from day one in the Navy flying and staying on carriers. Flying is so much part of my life that I feel like a fish out of water now back on land. And I feel weird in this summer dress whites...I even had to search around to find neutral coloured panties and a normal bra to well." Harm nodded as he knew Skates was a fan of sports bras and her flight uniform, where she could wear any coloured clothes underneath. US Navy regulations 3501.6 and 3501.100 dictated the colour of undergarments for the US Navy's Summer Whites.

"Your underwear choice shouldn't trouble your performance..."

"Well no it's just the sudden turn of events. One moment I was super angry at a shoddy junior aviator who nearly killed me. The next moment I was notified to see the CSG as if I was going to get a Hack or a Captain's Mast. Then I get this posting and there's no way I can reject it..."

"Your a F/A-18 back-seater right? You should know how to drop..."

"Yeah, yeah I tried that line with the Admiral. Didn't work. I just don't know. I could fumble in this whole assignment. I could miss the detail like Roberts did, I could fail the open the case properly..."

"Skates...Skates, look at me," Harm interjected, tapping his knife against her plate. "You're just underestimating and degrading yourself. Look, you've faced tough challenges before and this one is no different. It's not an assignment, it's a stepping stone into a wider and more exciting world."

Elizabeth Hawkes sat back and look at her former, no she considered Harm as her pilot forever. "You're...you're right Harm, I'm just overreacting as usual. Still, I don't know, there's something weird about this PCS; it's just so sudden."

"Strange but not entirely unheard of."

"Yeah...ok...actually I asked for this lunch really to get some bearings. I mean I know DC and such, but I just got here and have gotten much sorted. Like no cell phone, have to double check my bank account. Most of all is accommodation. I'm placed at the Marine Barracks at the moment. They say this carrying of the Football will keep me on the road around 90% of the time, but I don't think I want to rest with the olive green men and women. Would you happen to know of a cheap place for me to stay in?"

"I'll definitely look around for you, should have a good range of apartments available," Harm replied, mentally noting the request down. "Speaking of this area, didn't you once mention your husband works at the Pentagon?"

"Oh Johnny? He's at some DOD facility in the Pacific. We've never actually lived together since we've got married and have hardly seen each other for almost a year," she replied, expecting the talk of her hubby to come up. "And my parents moved to Washington state so I'm quite by myself here."

"Don't worry, I'm around," Harm grinned and Skates felt much better. "Anything else you need?"

"Hmm...not sure...maybe a crash course in Washington politics?" Harm laughed, quickly thinking to his times with Congresswoman Latham. "That will...well take quite a while. If you don't like the politics, ignore as much of it as you can. You're wearing a uniform, not representing a constituency."

Both of them chatted for a while longer before Skates remarked, "Oh, crap damnit. I'm still on Eastern European Time. Got to head off Harm, don't want to be late for my first meeting at 1600 Pensylvania Avenue. You can reach me at..." she passed him a slip of paper detailing her room number at the Marine barracks, as well as enough cash to pay for her meal. "Thanks a lot for the meet up, sir. Say hello to the rest of the JAG office for me."

Harm stared as his former RIO left, with memories of the time he spent with her in the air on the Patrick Henry. And now she's moved on to something extremely important, he thought, while I'm stuck with meaningless paperwork. Getting up, he was about to call for the check when he spotted a familiar face.

"Agent Dinozzo," he muttered.

To Be Continued...


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks for the reviews. Should be a shorter chapter here._

_Remember this story is set around “Lawyers Guns and Money” and before NCIS inaugural episode, “Yankee White”. So no Caitlin “Kate” Todd. Tony and well his back-slapping boss only. They’ll be enough._ _J_

_Once again, my description for how the Football operates is all fiction, but taken from other military fiction writers (easy to guess) and online open sources._

_Skates’ exploits over the skies of Afghanistan is an avenue for another FF, maybe._

 

**Potbellys Outlet**

**Washington DC Navy Yard Brach**

“Good to see you again Rabb, and not in a prisoner’s outfit,” Senior Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo greeted, extending his hand. It was the NCIS agent who came over to Harm’s table, not the other way round.

 

Harm looked at him and thought for a few seconds. It was Dinozzo who was the “kinder” of the NCIS team, and it was him, well Gibbs first, that re-looked at the case and cleared Harm of any wrong doing.

 

“Nice too see you too Agent Dinozzo,” Harm extended his hand. “Been busy these days?”

 

“Well not exactly investigating murdered JAGs and arresting their colleagues,” Tony quipped.

 

“Hey, wel...” Harm started then stopped. Dinozzo’s sarcastic remark was sort of a lecture. Harm was the one who fumbled and nearly was convicted had Gibbs’ team not dug deeper into the case.

 

“Anything interesting you can tell me?” Harm changed his line.

 

“Not really,” suddenly Dinozzo’s phone rang. “Yeah, boss, no...just eating lunch. Ok will be will be back straight after.” Closing his phone he continued, “Just as you mentioned that Commander, there’s something up.”

**Office of the Director of the White House Communications Agency**

**White House Military Office**

**West Wing**

**White House**

**1500 hours local**

 

“Thank you for making it, Lieutenant Commander Hawkes, please take a seat.” “Making it” was much of an understatement. Even though she had a formal letter stating her reason for visiting the White House, the security check lasted around forty five minutes. During which Skates passed through two sets of metal detectors, an X-Ray Scanner, a pat-down by a female Secret Service Agent, a check through her navy issue handbag and even her heels. Only then was she provided with a temporary pass and a close escort all the way to this rather stuffy office.

 

“Thank you sir, I’m ready to start.” Her “sir” comment was directed at the White House Communications Agency director, an army Colonel, Andrew Sanders, with a bountiful level of ribbons. There was also another bespectacled man who introduced himself as the White House Military Office Director, Jack Lindsey. Skates had briefly heard about him through Scuttlebutt: He was previously Under-Secretary of Defence for Acquisition, and many in the Navy complained about his initiatives. Before that he was a Senator and Congressman, and the staunchest right-wing politician in the legislature.

 

The WHMO Director motioned her to a seat and replied, “Just a few more checks, Commander.”

 

She raised eyebrows in surprise. “I thought...I as cleared when I received the orders.”

 

“Just the usually formalities. You do realise the sensitivity of this post. Now,” Lindsey flicked through a file. “You graduated summa cum laude in Electrical and Computer Engineering?”

 

“Yes, sir.” She replied, wondering if they were going to look through her whole college life.

 

“In your first year, you took a module in International Relations and...” he paused, “you wrote an essay advocating a massive reduction in nuclear disarmament.” His tone made it sound as a sentence, but the look on the WHMO Director’s face showed otherwise.

 

Oh shit, they even dug that up? “Um...sir, that was written many years back and my views have changed.”

 

“It was selected by your professor for a college academic journal...”

 

“Sir, it’s not a widespread publication. I believe...I believe that nuclear disarmament can happen but such weapons play a key part in our national defence.” Skates chose her words carefully.

 

“Ok...” He returned his folder. “So you are a veteran of the Kosovo campaign....where you received the Air Medal for pushing another F-14 out of enemy territory?”

 

“I assisted with that sir; I was the RIO and it was my pilot who flew the fighter.” Skates’ Air Medal was presented much later after Harm received his second DFC. Word from the grapevine said it was the latter who wrote to the higher authority to give her something for her role in that heroic act.

 

“...Veteran of also Operation Enduring Freedom, noted for many close in air support flights that were critical in each phase of the campaign.” Skates gave an acknowledgement to that statement. Nice to know they picked up her efforts across the last few years.

 

“Excellent record...your mother’s family is British?” The topic suddenly changed.

 

“Yes...they all are...will that be a worry in this assignment?”

 

“Your parents and siblings are registered Democrats...and they have a strong history voting against this President and his father.” He failed to answer her alit question.

 

“I...thought a citizen’s political leaning was suppose to be private sir,” she replied, getting annoyed with this line of questioning. “If you fee my family’s political interests are going to hinder my duties, I suggest you excuse me and let me head back to a carrier.”

 

The WHMO director glanced at his uniform colleague, then suddenly smiled a smile which Elizabeth Hawkes saw was both amicable yet hostile. “We never ask for yes-men or women in this country or its military, Lieutenant Commander. If fact, you in. Welcome aboard.”

 

“O...h,” was all she could say. All these questions to tell me yes?!

 

“Any questions before you start?” This finally came from Colonel Sanders.

 

“Er...what happened to the previous officer at this post sir? Not to be overly judgemental, but these change of orders came rather fast.”

 

“He suffered an accident,” was the reply. “Now,” he rose, “let’s get you acquainted with your new friend.”

 

**US Navy Judge Advocate General Headquarters**

**Washington DC Navy Yard**

**Around the same time**

 

“Commander, where have you been?” Rear Admiral (Upper Class) Albert Jethro “AJ” Chegwidden voice boomed across the room as soon as Harm stepped in the main outer office. All eyes turned and looked at the former Naval Aviator.

 

“Sir...I was at lunch with Lieutenant Roberts, I did inform you before hand.”

 

“Roberts returned over an hour ago and do you know what time it is?” Chegwidden’s annoyance, no temper was clearly visible.

“Admiral...I didn’t exceed my allotted hour..” Harm replied, hoping for a good afternoon. The next reply told him otherwise.

 

“Well to me you have. Go take the duty JAG’s chair and be useful.”

 

“Sir, isn’t there already one today? I saw Lieutenant...”

 

“Commander, do I have to repeat myself? I have a great shortage of staff especially with McKenzie taken away by the CIA. Now take the duty JAG’s chair. That’s an order.”

 

Harm wanted to push it again, but instead snapped to attention as the head JAG walked off. “It’s just one of his days, sir,” Harm turned to see Legalman Second Class Jennifer Coates next to him.

 

“It’s ok, Coates, I can manage.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Coates, just let it be.” The Legalman nodded though she still thought she would press the matter later.

 

Gathering necessary files, Harm headed to the duty office which was a room filled with cabinets and dusty files. Wiping off the table and chair, he was about to settle in when a knock on the door disturbed the silence. Turning about, he saw a blonde-haired lady about five foot and in a chequered coat. “Excuse me, I’m looking for the legal assistance officer?”

 

“I’m the assigned duty JAG ma’am, Commander Harmon Rabb,” Harm shook her hand and guided her to a nearby chair. “What can I help you with?”

 

“Well, you can help me find information about my husband. They, the...your navy said he was injured badly in an accident a few days ago but that’s I got. I tried calling and calling but it was either and engaged tone or a voicemail.”

 

Flicking on the terminal Harm accessed the military records database. “What’s your husband’s name?”

 

“Laramie, Commander Michael Laramie.”

 

“Bah!” The computer sounded. “There’s...no record of him here.”

 

“What do you mean? That’s his name. He served in the Navy...”

 

**Inner Office of the Director of the White House Communications Agency**

**White House Military Office**

**West Wing**

**White House**

The “friend” looked like a normal briefcase that had put on at least several kilograms, Skates thought. It didn’t look like a device that could start a war, let alone allow the leader of the free world to destroy the planet several times over.

 

“It may not look like much,” the WHCA Director began, as if reading her thoughts, “but it definitely wasn’t designed to be appealing.”

 

“Now,” began another officer, an Air Force officer of Brigadier General rank. “Take a close look at it, touch it, and tell me where the opening locks are.”

 

She bent closer and felt around the whole device. Funnily enough, the whole leather skin was all she could see and feel. “There isn’t any,” Skates replied, hoping for the session not to turn out to be a magical trick show.

 

“That’s because no one is suppose to see it,” replied a second officer, an Army Brigadier General. “Here,” he extended a rectangular box, “place all your fingers, thumbs included on this pad.” Skates did so. “Now put your fingers back on the briefcase, along the middle.” The bag suddenly opened, but only half an inch. Another whirling sound was made and a key pad popped out from the side.

 

“That was phase one.” The WHCA Director replied.

 

“Now, Commander, I hope your memory skills are really truly as great as great as they say they are.” The Air Force Brigadier General revealed another device which looked exactly like an automatic dealing machine. Skates had visited Las Vegas once with her relatives years ago but only watched them playing blackjack. “Press the side button.” Another whirling sound emitted and then over a dozen “dealing cards” were ejected out of the device. “Pick one card and place it back in the machine. A set of numbers will appear on the screen, but only for ten seconds. Memorise them and remember them by hard.” Her heart beating fast, Skates did so and caught sight of the numbers. “9...” as soon as they appeared the screen went blank. “Do it two more times with two different cards.”

 

That part over, the army general gave the next instructions. “Enter the memorised numbers on that keypad.” Finally, the whole briefcase sprung open, but only to reveal a black book, a manila folder with ten pages stapled together and a three-by-five inch card. By the side was a small digital device.

 

“That’s...all there is?!” She exclaimed then seeing the expressions of the senior officers she mumbled an apology.

 

“Well not quite Commander,” the Air Force Brigadier General replied. He presented a TOP SECRET NOFORN folder over. “You have to also memorise this by hard by at most tomorrow before we take it back.” Looking closer, she saw it was a briefing manual on “Continuity of Government Plans”, “Strategic Command emergency operations”, “National Command Authority control” and the last “Special Weapons release procedures and options.” Nuclear Weapons, she mentally translated.

 

“Sign here, Commander Hawkes.” That line was repeated at least a dozen times and as soon as the twelfth form was signed, a mobile phone rang. “Yes...oh...now? Ok, we’ll get the officer ready. No problem.” Clicking his phone shut, he addressed the rest of them. “We have to finish this later gentleman; POTUS has suddenly an unscheduled trip.”

 

“Huh?” That came from Skates.

 

“You have to carry the briefcase, Commander and accompany the President.”

 

“Like...right now?”

 

“Yes. Welcome to the wonderful world of the White House.”

 

To Be Continued...   

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks for the reviews, especially the positive ones. Let’s enter the world of the US President and his executive office here. As repeatedly stated, the US President won’t be named, but from this chapter onwards you might see the first name “George” appear. Similarly, the familiar first names of former key officials will also appear, so expect: Dick, Donald, Colin, Condi etc. etc. to pop up. The reasons why are quite obvious. For certain major officials I will change their names to fit within the context of the story—the WHMO and WHCA directors names are my own creation for example. Established writers like Fredrick Forsyth have gotten away with using the full names of former government leaders and officials, but at last, I’m not at that level (I don’t think many FF authors are.)_

_In reality, as far as I’ve researched, there’s more than one “Football” carrier—you can’t expect one officer to hold and control the Nuclear Briefcase 24/7/365! This is fiction so it’s just good ol’ “Skates” holding the deadly briefcase in this story._

_I know this chapter is very Skates-heavy, but hey, she’s still a JAG character. Harm and other will appear later.._

_PS: Do try to guess the real life characters and their full names. PM me with your answers!_

 

**Secret Service Command Centre**

**Location Classified, White House Complex**

**Washington DC**

 

Growing up, Elizabeth Hawkes always shunned exercising regularly. It just wasn’t something she particularly enjoyed and told herself and those around her that vitamins and healthy eating would suffice. So when she came home and announced that she was signing on her college’s NROTC, her parents’ eyes nearly dropped out of their sockets. “How will you manage the physical training?!” cried her mother. In the end, Elizabeth Hawkes passed all her physical tests and topped her flight school class. Having spent the rest of her Navy life in the back seat of Navy jets, Skates didn’t think much about working up in the gym.

 

The 45 pound heavy briefcase thus immediately strained her left arm the moment she lifted it up. Even more so, she had to hold her Navy peaked cap against her left side, causing even more discomfort. Director Sanders grinned, “Commander, looks like you better get into shape when you’re off duty.” Yessir, she grimaced, trying not to show the pain.

 

Luckily, the walk to whatever location they were headed to didn’t take so long. With a simple swipe of an ID card, the door opened to reveal a smaller office filled with men and women in business suits and dozens of computer terminals. Manoeuvring past some of them, the earpieces on their right ears told Skates that they were undoubtedly United States Secret Service agents.

 

“Sandy, here’s the new ‘Football’ carrier, Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth Hawkes. Commander, Ted ‘Sandy’ Sandman, head of the Presidential Protective Detail.” As a science and military fiction reader, Skates knew that was the inner team of SS agents that protected the President.

 

The tight handshake from the six foot plus burly man lasted only a few seconds, before he retracted and lifted his hand to speak silently into the attached microphone. It was only then he waved to another nearby agent. “Escort Champion to the necessary vehicle.” “Good luck Commander, see you back here when you’ve finished.”

 

“Wait...sir...” but he Director disappeared. “Uhm, Agent...Sandy, what’s Champion?” but the PPD head had also moved away. The younger, crew-cut agent simply mumbled “follow me”, and also dashed off, leaving Skates heaving and panting with the black suitcase in her left arm. After series of corridors and narrow steps, a shiny dark sleek limousine suddenly appeared. With a “beep, beep” like a door car lock, the handle-less door opened and his hand gestured for her to get in.

 

The door snapped back and Elizabeth Hawkes was inside alone. Well, at least she could finally sit and place the “weight” she carried down. Damnit, it wasn’t even an hour carrying that “Doomsday Device” and her legs and ankles were already feeling the strain. No thanks to the Navy-issued heels, she thought. Man, I miss the good ol’ flight suit and boots...

 

The door on the other side clicked open and three more individuals entered: two men who were undoubtedly Secret Service Agents and a Air Force Colonel whose insignia indicated he was from the Medical Corps. She immediately sat up in the presence of a senior officer. “Colonel Dick Tubb, Director White House Medical Unit,” he introduced himself. Basically, the White House Doctor.

 

“You must be the new Champion,” he remarked, laying his right foot on his left knee. Oh, that word again. “Champion is the Secret Service and White House codename.”

 

“Oh,” that should have been so simple, Skates thought.

 

“I see you’re missing your aiguillette, Commander, they must have rushed you in faster than speedy Gonzalez.”

 

“Uh yeah. I mean, they seem to demand my presence right away.”

 

“Well hope you survive the whole stint Commander....” Skates added her full name. Again, she was missing a name badge which he had. I’m so much a fish out of water here, she thought.

 

“Er...sir, I wonder if you know what happened to my predecessor.”

 

The doctor uttered a short laugh and replied, “He suffered some fatal accident and that’s all I ...know.” The last word came out slowly as the vehicle suddenly jerked to life. Its acceleration was so fast that Skates was thrown off her seat.

 

“Careful, the seat belt, would help,” said one agent, helping her back up.

 

Giving her thanks, Skates introduced herself to the duo and learnt their names: Agent Anderson and Agent Barnes. More like Agents A and B, she thought.

 

“So guys, do you know where we’re going?” She tried to start a casual conversation with the agents.

 

They suddenly kept silent, only sitting up straight in their seats. “They never tell you where, Commander. You should know why. Our job is to be ready anytime.”

 

Ours but to do and die, Skates thought, twisting Tennyson’s famous poem and looked through the dark coloured windows. She could just make out the buildings along Constitution Avenue but everything seemed a blur to her due to the speed of the vehicle. They never tell you where, the doctor said. I’m to carry the world’s most powerful briefcase and yet they won’t tell me where I’m headed. What a job.

 

Fifteen minutes later, the vehicle suddenly stopped and the two agents immediately sprung out of the car, with the doors shutting quickly behind them. Skates want to follow suit but the Medical Officer waved his hand.

 

“But...”

 

“Commander, be patient.” I thought the Football carrier has to follow the President closely, she thought again. Why can’t I get out with them? Finally, a few minutes later, she heard a click and the doors narrowly opened. Exiting, she found herself in an underground garage and lifting the Football, she followed the doctor who was following yet another agent. Through a flight of stairs, she realised she was in one of the local schools in DC. What the heck, she thought, they can’t even tell me POTUS was visiting a school?

 

Suddenly, she saw the WHMO doctor dart away and was about to follow suit when the agent blocked her path and motioned her to another corridor. A few minutes later, she found herself facing a large wooden door.

 

“Where....” Skate noticed the escorting agent moving away. “Just stay here ma’am; another agent will join you shortly.” She wanted to continue but he scooted away.

 

Damnit, this job is full of unknowns and unknowns, Skates cursed. Or expected unknowns. Or unknown unknowns, she twisted the current Defence Secretary’s famous remarks. Why me, she thought looking up to the ceiling. Why....

 

“So you’re the new Champion,” a new voice interrupted her thoughts. Skates came face to face with an agent who at first glance was the same height as her, similarly with brown hair and with an extremely muscular build. His physical appearance was a direct contrast to her husband.

 

“Nice to meet you, Agent Michael Coppinger,” he said, extending his hand.

 

“Elizabeth Hawkes. Or Skates as almost everyone calls me.” His handshake was extremely strong.

 

“Skates? Oh, your call sign. Sounds cool.” He noticed her NFO wings. “Got out on the wrong side of bed today Skates?”

 

“Huh? No...it’s just that I’m so brand new to this. And was thrown into it literally. Just a few days ago I was on my usual carrier flight and now I dragged here holding this heavy briefcase. Literally a fish out of water.”

 

“Part of the job. I was post all around the States as a junior agent and even to the London office for a while.”

 

“Urm...it’s not just about getting thrown about. There’s something suspicious. They won’t say what happened to my....” Her sentence was cut off as he lifted his arm and spoke, “Go. Yes, Sector Green secure, Champion secure. Copy.”

 

“Sorry, Tumbler will be exiting soon,” he said positioning himself nearer the door and indicting her to join him at the side. “Tumbler, POTUS codename.” I learn yet another fact, Skates thought.

 

Two minutes later, the two doors snapped open and a horde of men and women moved on in almost military like fashion. Skates could easily pick out the Secret Service agents now with their sunglasses and ear sets. The others must be staffers and she recognised some cabinet members. The Secretary of Education was there, the first African-American SoE. So was the Press Secretary, recognisable from his balding head. Skates also spotted one Deputy Chief of Staff talking loudly on a wireless phone. Then, amongst another group of agents was...

 

“...Those children ere so talented eh Rod?” She heard him comment to the SoE.

 

“Yes, Mr. President, all thanks to your new education initiative.”

 

“Rod, how many times must I say, call me George...” Skates suddenly saw him turn and walk towards her. As if by instinct, a quartet of agents moved, two of them physically blocking the President from her view.

 

“Guys, step aside,” she heard the distinctive Texan drawl. The agents did so and she came face to face with the five foot eleven and a half Commander in Chief. “Well goodday, Lieutenant Commander, you must be the new Football carrier.”

 

Skates immediately snapped to attention. As she did so, she suddenly felt her limbs shaking and she tightened her left hand over the Football, which seemed several pounds heavier. Extending her right hand, she accepted the President’s hand.“Good... Afternnon,, Mr. President, Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth Hawkes,” her voice was slightly shaking. Oh my gosh, I met the President of the United States! Well dad and mom won’t be excited. Dad often called him the “C student who got the job due to his Daddy” and mom called him “a man who steals from the poor to give to the rich.” Her family was quite left wing centre but Skates tried to avoid immersing herself in political discussions. All that mattered to her was the job.

 

“At ease. Nice to meet your Commander Hawkes. Good to have a gal on this job.” Then POTUS too noticed her wings. “Which squadron?”

 

“VF-75 “Strikers, sir” she replied, still shaking, although another part of her said, Skates, it’s just the President for crying out loud. “USS Patrick Henry,” she added for no particular reason.

 

“Always love a...”

 

“Excuse me, Mr. President, your meeting with the Senate Finance Committee...” A short haired blonde woman approached him.

 

“Ashley, it can wait,” POTUS waved his hand. “Always love a Naval Aviator and a carrier, Commander. My time on the Abraham Lincoln was too short. I should schedule a visit to yours. Where’s your strike group now?”

 

“The Mediterranean Sea, Mr. President,” she replied, the Football’s weight still straining her left arm. What else is he going to ask?

 

“Ah, the beautiful Med, such nice weather and nice countries around it. i go see your CVBG and then pop by to see my pal Berlusco..”

 

“Mr President...” the secretary/aide prompted him again.

 

“Got to go Commander. Nice meeting you, we’ll catch up later.” With that, the Presidential Protective Detail agents group themselves around him like ants escorting their queen and moved off.    

 

**Duty JAG Office**

**US Navy JAG Headquarters**

**Washington Navy Yard**

"But there's got to something wrong; my husband is, well was a US Navy officer," the lady protested.

 

"I'm sorry ma'am," Harm replied, "but our system simply does not contain any officer or enlisted personnel with the name Michael Laramie," Harm said. He had entered the service number the lady gave him, plus alterations of the surname. "Do you know any more details of his accident? What was his role in the Navy?"

 

"Well..." she replied hesitantly, "I actually don't know. We've only been married for a few years and due to our different jobs, we've rarely seen each other. He was in intelligence or some sort. We rarely talked about about each other's work." She wiped her eyes which were starting to tear.

 

Harm passed her a box of tissues. "Well something must be wrong with the system or there's another angle to this. Hold on," Harm punched a few numbers on his telephone but got an engaged tone. He entered another number. "Hi Coates? Commander Rabb here. You busy? Ok, can you help me? Can you check if there's a Commander Laramie, yes Lima Alpha Romeo Mike India Echo, Michael in your database? Try if you can access AFIS as well. Service number is Sierra X-Ray 1456688 Ok, I'll hold... Nothing, well ok thanks. Head back to your work."

 

"Well ma'am, still a dead end. Can you tell me anymore about him? Like when you last met and when you heard from him?"

"

We...." Suddenly, the fire alarm rang and an announcement blared. "Fire Drill, Fire Drill..."

**Inner Office of the Director of the White House Communications Agency**

**White House Military Office**

**West Wing**

**White House**

**A Few Hours Later...**

 

"Again, Commander, if there is a national pandemic, which file must the President immediately access?"

 

"Urm...Alpha X-Ray 30?"

 

"Wrong. Alpha XRay 20. 30 is for massive natural disasters. Which one is for confirmed

SRBM launch against US allies?"

 

"Alpha Zulu 03."

 

"Right, and what is the code word if the attack was not a real attack?"

 

"Err..." Skates squeezed her eyes...

 

"Hawkes, come on, this is the third time running," Colonel Sanders chided her. "The ball carrier must know everything about the Football and every emergency scenario. Now, what's..."

 

Skates raised her hand to stifle a yawn. Then regaining her composure, she apologised, "I'm really sorry sir, I beat. I'm still on East European Time or some other time zone."

 

The Director glanced at his watch and replied "Yeah, well I should have known. I guess you can secure for the day Commander. But bright and early tomorrow here. You've gotta learn everything really ASAP, especially the procedures for strategic lauch."

 

"Thank you, sir," she said snapping to attention. Thirty minutes later, Skates was out of the shower and in her small room in the female officer's quarters in the Marine Barracks. Glancing at the mirror, she plodded over to her handbag to retrieve her usual comb. As she extracted it, she noticed a rather small piece of paper wedged between her lipstick and her portable mirror. What the....

 

Unfolding it, she found it blank. As she brought it up to the light, words suddenly appeared on one side:

 

IF YOU LOVE YOUR COUNTRY AND WANT TO KNOW MORE, MEET ME 0600 AT THE CORNER OF BILTMORE ST NW AND CALVERT ST NW. DESTOY THIS NOTE AFTER READING.

 

A.S.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for all the reviews. I'll change Agent Michael Coppinger's nickname due to its undesirable connotations.

I guess no one wanted to guess the names of the previous administration's officials. Oh well, you can still guess again as I add on more names.

Oh, if you're wondering why I chose the location below, well, I've an affinity to that area.

Remember this is an AU so Mac is away with Webb (as per the series) but Harm isn't looking for her.

Corner of Calvert Street NW and Biltmore Street NW

Adams Morgan

Washington DC

0600 Hours local

It's almost like walking the freaking length of a carrier, Skates mused as she moved briskly up the road, her tour guide map in her hand. Biltmore, Biltmore where are...ah found it. Crossing at the lights, she stopped and was about to glance around when she felt tap on her back.

"Oh, morning Colonel," she said. "I was wondering..."

"Good morning Hawkes. Right this way," he pointed, and crossed at the lights again. Skates soon found herself in some small park and the two of them moved until they found a bench.

"Have you eaten? Here, I think you'll like this," he passed over a packet and a Styrofoam cup. Skates unwrapped the greaseproof paper and found two slices of bacon wrapped in a whole wheat bun. It was her favourite breakfast in the world and the Henry's Mess Management Specialists would always make one for her every other week as a token. [1] She then noticed the aroma from the cup and opened it.

"One half sugars, two cream. Small dash of sea salt right?" Colonel Sanders asked.

"How did you know..?"

"Your favourite breakfast and coffee? Part of the Yankee White search."

"But...I don't know whether to be thankful or feel that my privacy has been invaded."

"Commander, I was bluffing. I performed a background check on your likes."

"And then sent me cryptic notes for early morning meetings far across town?"

Sanders gave a short laugh that didn't satisfy her curiosity and continued, "Eat and drink up, Commander, and I'll explain."

Skates paused for a few seconds before sipping the coffee, which was heavenly, and took a bit of the muffin. "You know, you were right in your essay. Nuclear weapons weren't of much use military-wise during the Cold War and definitely less of a use today." This early morning clandestine meeting can't be about an anti-nuclear weapon discussion.

"Still, it's never our decision to argue. We just hold the instruments that provide the options for the government of the day. It the glamour of the job; you're holding codes and options that should never happen. Not as glamorous as flying CAS over Afghanistan right?"

"CAS is always glamorous, sir," she replied. And with luck, I will be back performing that task instead of holding a damned briefcase.

"There's beauty in working with others over deterrence and non-proliferation issues too. And we're in civvies now. I'm Andy, They call you Skates right?"

"Uh yes," she replied. Ok, so you can address me by my callsign. Let's get on with it.

"Well Skates, there's excitement in this posting. It's all about viewing it as an adventure and a challenge."

"The challenge is not knowing the all the facts."

"Ok, Skates, you're asking the million question: Who was your predecessor and what happened to him? He's Commander Joshua Hayes and I don't his status."

Skates folded the muffin wrapper and stared at her new boss before giving a short laugh. "Col...Andy, you left me a not to destroy, made me catch the earliest Metro over here in civvies and you tell me 'I don't know'?!"

Sanders turned his head around to see a morning jogger. He waited before she moved past then turned back. "Yeah, Skates, we don't know what happened to him. Hayes was a professional officer and destined for high office. He was excellent at his job until one week when he started to ask for leave intermittently. He kept on denying to us at the office that there was nothing wrong. I had DSS check up on him and his wider family but nothing unusual came up. Then one day he turned up, punched in his paperwork and said he was leaving the service. DSS and others did a thorough check, but couldn't find him." DSS, as Skates knew, was the Defense Security Service, a DOD agency that conducts security checks.

"Ok, my first guess the story doesn't stop there. Hayes' whereabouts are still not known. And why was DSS only involved? How about DCIS? Or even NCIS?" DCIS was the Defense Criminal Investigative Service, the group that investigates any DOD-military cases of fraud, corruption and technology transfer.

"Oh I think several alphabet organisations are involved, but that's it."

"That's it?! Colone...Andy you have a missing officer who's last job was to carry the country's...the world's most powerful briefcase?! It's a nat..." then she noticed his "be softer" looked then stopped.

"Skates, Director Lindsey has taken charge of the case, and really that's it. I may be WHCA director, but that doesn't mean I get to be in charge of every thing that happens with the WHCA or the strategic force."

"But...wait a minute, Lindsey's in charge but you...you secretly arranged this meeting in civvies..."

"I thought you would have guessed that. I don't know who all the players are."

"Andy, this is serious. Why not report it straight to DOD? Or channel it up to SecDef? Or someone?"

Sanders shook his head and edged closer to her. "When I say I don't know who all the players are, I also mean I don't know who to trust. That's where you come in. I need to be my second set of eyes and ears."

"But if you don't know where Hayes is or what's really going on, what do you expect me to do? Sir," she returned to the formal junior-to-senior language, "I respect decline. I'll put in a transfer back to my carrier and will probably report this meeting..." her sentence trailed off again upon Sanders' face again.

"You didn't get your two Air Medals for nothing," he said in a direct statement. Skates' first Air Medal came a few weeks after her 'Pardo's Push' which brought Tuna's disabled Tomcat out of enemy territory to a safe area for ejection. Well, it was her pilot, Harm that actual did the flying. Skates' second Air Medal when she and her pilot brought their F/A-18F extremely close to the ground to ward off Taliban fighters who had pinned down a NATO convoy.

Skates wanted to reply that heroism in the air wasn't about shadowy issues but instead said, "What do you expect me to do? I'm not even sure of my own role as Football carrier."

"Just be on the lookout for anyone or anything out of the ordinary. I'll be in close contact with you and also watching. Act normally in front of others, even Lindsey, but trust no one. As for your duties," he said, glancing at his watch, "we better get moving lest we be late. I'll drop you off close to your barracks where you can change, then head to the White House." As the two of them left, a shadowy pair of eyes blinked.

NCIS Main Headquarters, Washington Navy Yard

Major Crisis Response Team Section

0800 Local

"Hey, Loretta, couldn't call you the other day. How about lunch later? Say the lovely Clam Chowder at the Fish Mar...oww..." Anthony Dinozzo felt the usual but painful headslap against the back of his head.

"Dinozzo! How many times must call you!" Senior Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs yelled.

"Sorry Boss...sorry Loretta...talk later." Clicking his phone shut he continued, "Uh what? Dead bod.."

"MTAC. Director Morrow wants to see us."

"On your six boss!" Though at the same time, Tony was wandering what the Director wanted with them early in the morning. Maybe it was to assigned the MCRT a new Special Agent ever since Vivian Blackladder left. Blackladder was a PITA and Tony hope that a new agent would not be so.

"Gibbs, Dinozzo," Morrow greeted. "Welcome to the case of the unknowns." Motioning to the technician, they both listen to a garbled tape. "NSA picked this up this morning. Not from Baghdad, not from Kabul, not from Karachi but from the Midwest of the US. It's in a rare dialect of Arabic. The whole jin-gang of Homeland Security agencies are trying to track down the source and maybe take it out."

"What does this have to do with the Navy, Director?" Dinozzo asked and accepted a folder marked TOP SECRET.

"Here's a rough translation of the recording. It mentions 'Navy' many times in it, as well as 'shock' and 'revelation'. We are assuming the worst: an Al Queda-related attack on a Navy asset or installation. I want you two to head up a new task force to seek out and stop the attack. Go back through all our wanted list of suspects, even those remotely to AQ and seek them out, especially if there's any indication of any plan."

This is going to be a long day, Dinozzo thought, and not with a lunch with a girl.

JAG Headquarters

Washington Navy Yard

Around the same time

"Morning sir, this note cam for you," Legalman Second Class Coates said, passing Commander Rabb a note. "Staff meeting is in five minutes."

"Thank, Coates," he said, draining his cup. Silting the note open, he notice the seal and clicked his blinds shut.

All IS NOT CALM ALL IS NOT BRIGHT

That was the prearranged code words from Webb and Mac that everything was ok. Oh Mac, he thought, thinking back to all the fights and fun he had with her. Well, at least Skates' bak in town. Not that he would get to meet up wit her given her new vocation. Still, Harm thought, better give her a call. Just as he thought of the world call, he remembered the woman yesterday and also made a mental note to call her as well.

Unspecified room, White House Military Office

West Wing, The White House

1000 local

Swiping the card twice, Skates yanked the small lever and held it for five seconds. The screen flickered, then turned red.

"One minute, twenty," Jack Lindsey said. "Not bad, but try to be just a little faster."

"That's it?" Skates asked.

"Yup, you've helped the President and the Vice President launch a strategic attack," he said. "Good work."

I wish they use the layman's terms, Skates' thought. You know how to help start a nuclear war now, Elizabeth Catherine Hawkes, she thought. What a wonderful job.

"Well, now you've passed this part, come along with me to the Pentagon. There's other stuff you have to sign and learn."

"Are you joining us Colonel?"

"Noh I'm staying here. Don't work, it's mostly administrative stuff." She notice his look. Oh darn, I have to spy and do my job at the same time, she thought. And I don't even know what or who to look for...

JAG Headquarters

Washington Navy Yard

1530 hours

That was hell of a day, Harm thought. Besides staff meeting, Chegwidden had him and the other staff review lots of minor cases, both current and past. Finally settling down his chair, Harm flickered through his large note pad and found the number he was looking for.

"You have reached," the automated voice read out the number. "The person you have called is currently unavailable."

Hmm, not even a voice mail service, Harm thought. He tried again every ten minutes but still encountered the same voice. Laramie, he doodled on his note pad. Who are you and where can you be?

Marine Barracks

Corner of 8th and I Streets

Washington DC

A couple of days later, 2145 local

What a week, Skates, thought, her heels clicking up the stairs of the women's wing. She has not only visited the Pentagon countless number of times, but followed the President at least close to a dozen times as he visited various agencies and organisations in DC, Maryland and Virginia. And I all I did was to carry a briefcase and stand the shadows. My left arm looks bigger than my right now, Skates thought. Ok, maybe I should really hit the gym.

"Oh Commander," a female Marine Lance Corporal called, forcing Skates to turn around "someone called looking for you". He handed her a note. Lucky Commander, he thought, must be her boyfriend.

Skates unfolded it, hoping it was not work-related and then smiled. She instinctively reached into her handbag then remembered. "Uh, Corporal, in there an external phone line here that I can use?"

"Down there, to the left, ma'am. Good night." Definitely a boyfriend, he thought.

After one ring, she heard a sleepy voice, "Rabb here."

"Thanks for remembering me, sir. Sorry for the late call; I just got back to the barracks," Skates chimed, happy that she could talk with her former pilot.

"How couldn't I forget the best RIO in the United States Navy? And remember it's Harm. How's the Foo...how's the job going so far?"

Skates blinked then remembered this was an open, unsecured line. "It's been hell. I've been thrown around whole day like I don't know that I'm still in Washington DC, an ocean or in Hell."

"I know the feel Skates," Harm commented. "Well it's the weekend. Are you on duty or can we catch up?"

"Harm, that would be great. Let me see; I should be available..." suddenly the rapid beeps on her WHMO-issued cell phone interrupted her reply. "Hold on, Harm."

"Hawkes here, secure," she said, moving slightly away from the main phone.

"Hawkes, Lindsey here. Hit the rack early, pack a bag and report at 0600 tomorrow. POTUS' schedule has been altered and he's flying out earlier than expected."

"Flying out...sir?"

"His overseas visits. You're riding with him on Angel."

Angel...wait didn't I hear that...Air Force One?!

"Hawkes?"

"Yessir, still here."

"Remember to bring your passport. I don't want you to cause any faux pas over this. And keep this under wraps. Lindsey out."

Skates picked up the main telephone again and spoke, "Hey Harm, we have to have a rain check for our meet up. Have to hit the racks early."

"You going somewhere?"

"Uh, I really can't say Harm." Though with the press and internet nowadays, he could guess. "Thanks so much for remembering me. I'll see you soon. Bye Hammer."

Shit, shit shit, now I get to fly on Air Force One?! What to pack? Who will I meet? And oh, remember Skates, there's a mystery you have to solve. What a lucky O-4 you are...

To Be Continued...

[1] Mess Management Specialists is the term for chefs in the US Navy until January 2004. Since this story takes place around 2003, that term is still correct. See . ?story_id=11398


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skates boards Air Force One, Tony Dinozzo talks to Gibbs, Harm tries to solve a mystery

_The trip here and other trips mentioned in this FF are entirely fictional as are the conversations._

**Briefing Room, White House Military Office**

**The White House**

**0605 local**

 

“Ok ladies and gents, let’s go through this one more time. POTUS will be doing a quick Asian and Middle Eastern trip. AFO or Angel will take off and land at Elmendorf Air Force Base* for refuelling. Then on to Tokyo for a short conversation with the Japanese Prime Minister and then on to Kadena AFB to meet up with serving personnel. Next, a stop over for a day and a half, or maybe two for discussions with President Hu of China and his Cabinet. From China, POTUS will proceed to Australia via refuelling in-flight. There...

 

One really great thing about working at the White House, Skates thought, it’s the coffee. She may have accepted the taste of Navy-issued coffee during her career but White House coffee was simply a whole world away. It was like drinking a super energy drink and boy did she need one at this early hour seated amongst a sea of uniformed people and civilians. Evne when serving on carriers, Skates had never seen so many double bars, oak leafs, silver oak leafs, eagles and enlisted insignia in the same room before.

 

“...and After Kuwait, it’s all the way home. Now, of course the USSS is the primary security agency for any trip but you all should also act as if you are the protecting POTUS, not just the security staff. We’re not expecting any security threats during this trip, but coming after 9/11 and Operation Iraqi Freedom, protests are expected. I expect all personnel to interact with hosts and counterparts diplomatically and naturally adhere to normal UCMJ rules. Do not wander off on your own or walk in public areas in your uniform. I don’t want any international incidents at all. Questions?” Heads shook. “Ok, get to your posts. We’ve a timetable to meet.”

 

Where do I go? Skates thought, lifting her hastily packed bag and trying to look for Sanders, Lindsey or someone she knew. Skates followed a trio of Marine Lieutenant Colonels out before she heard her named called. Turning she saw the Warrant Officer she first encountered in the WHMO.

 

“The Marine Flight is that way, Commander,” he pointed. “I’ll take your luggage and make sure it gets on AFO.”

 

“Oh,” Skates said. The wonders of government air travel. Outside, she spotted POTUS and a couple of Cabinet members. Heaving the Football, she was about to follow the delegation when an aide stopped her.

“But I’m the Football carrier,” she explained. “Champion,” she remembered the code name.

 

“You go to that chopper,” he pointed to a second chopper and explained that it was the SOP.

 

Skates started to argue but stopped and compiled. Gee, she thought, not even the Football carrier gets to ride in Marine One. What if, heaven forbid, POTUS has authorise a nuclear strike while flying across the capital? Or maybe it’s due to security. Or whatever, she thought as she climbed aboard. Great thing I remember to change to Navy slacks.

 

 **Andrews Air Force Base** **

**0800 local**

 

The Marine Helicopter dropped almost like a feather on the base tarmac. Pretty slick flying for the Marines, Skates thought, as she used to bad-mouth USMC aviators while on the _Patrick Henry_. The door snapped open and Skates immediately smelt the familiar smell of jet fuel. Ah, sweet smell, she thought, just missing the salty air and the sea spray. Everyone around her was unbuckling their seats and as Skates stepped out, she saw the distinctive 747. What she didn’t spot was POTUS and his entourage so she popped that question to a nearby agent.

 

“We board Angel first,” was the only reply. Jeez, she thought, can somebody ever tell me something detailed and accurate?

 

Within moments, Skates found herself climbing up the stairs and she enter the Presidential aircraft. The interior immediately looked familiar to the scenes in the movie Air Force One. Wow, she thought as she walked further in, it is exactly like the Air Force One setting.

 

“It’s as you see it Commander,” the same agent next to her replied. Just as Skates tried to move further, the agent pointed to a seat on the aisle and then head deeper into the aircraft. I’m a dog, Skates thought, settling down. A dog having to obey orders and carrying the world’s most powerful briefcase.

 

“Morning, Commander Hawkes, looking fresh today,” Skates looked up to see Agent Michael Coppinger enter.

 

Finally, someone familiar. “Good morning Agent Coppinger, and thanks. Barely managed to fix my hair,” she replied.

 

“I know, too early a start. I had a five hour sleep with POTUS and other Executive Branch members holding late night meetings.”

 

Skates gave him a smile as he continued, “So how do you like this Presidential Aircraft?”

 

“It’s...nice. Looks a bit like the movie,” Skates commented.

“That’s Hollywood stuff,” he said, still standing. “This is the real thing.”

 

“Oh, so this aircraft doesn’t have a Presidential escape pod or a set of parachute and a parachute opening?”  She teased. Skates remembered the 1997 film by hard since it was the movie shown on the _Patrick Henry_ at least six times.

 

“I can’t confirm or deny any capabilities Angel has, Commander,” he replied.

 

“Skates...that’s what everyone calls me,” Skates replied, smiling again.

 

“Mike,” he smiled. “Relax, Skates, you’re gripping the Football too tightly.”

 

“I know, I know but after all I suppose to carry and protect this thing. By the way, touch wood and all that, but if any happens, do I get any protection?”

 

“Secret Service role is to protect the President.”

 

“So worst comes to worst, I’m on my own?”

 

“I wouldn’...” Suddenly Coppinger pressed her earpiece and mumbled into his handset. “POTUS is arriving. See you later, Com...Skates,” With that, he clicked open a side door and left.

 

I’m alone once more she thought. Well, at least this agent seems friendly. And quite cute too, she thought. Hey, Elizabeth Hawkes, you have a husban... before the other voice could lecture  her, she heard footsteps and shot up to attention. “Good Morning, President,” she greeted him then noticed the other elderly man whom her father had often criticised. “Good Morning, Mr. Vice President.”

 

“Morning Commander,” was the response by POTUS before his head was covered by taller agents in his PPD. Well, at least he replied. Five minutes later, she head the pilot announce, “Folks, we’re about to take off. Please fasten your seatbelts.”

 

**NCIS Main Headquarters, Washington Navy Yard**

**Major Crisis Response Team unit**

**0830**

 

“Ok, Boss, here’s what we know so far,” Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo said, grabbing the ‘clicker’ device. “Mohammed Aziza, Syrian with known ties to Al Queda. Arrested by Turkish authorities, escaped. Arrested by Egyptian authorities escaped. Finally arrested by joint Special Forces-CIA in Afghanistan. Mentioned an AQ plan to set of bombs in military installations in Iraq and Afghanistan.

 

Second, Asif Bin Atwa. Born to Saudi parents lived all over the Middle East and Southeast Asia. Known to have photographed US military installations in Japan and Singapore. Held under terrorist act in the UK and revealed other known terrorist plots against Western military installations.”

 

“Is that it?” Senior Special Agent Gibbs asked, draining his coffee.

 

“That’s it boss. These are the closest to any terrorists linked to attacking USN assets or personnel.”

 

“Neither of them look show indication of links with AQ people within the US or give a sharp hint of attacking Navy targets.”

 

“But they are....”

 

“Get back and look again. Twist arms of other agents and agencies if you have to.” Gibbs retrieved his keys and Sig Sauer.

 

“Where are you off to boss?”

 

“To twist Fornell’s arm.”

 

**Onboard Air Force One**

**Somewhere over the Northwest of the United States**

 

If White House coffee and snacks were great, Air Force One’s Food might be described as heavenly, Skates thought, as she dug into the fairly large breakfast. Several rashes of bacon, two eggs fried over hard, toast and jam. Plus the coffee was the same quality as that from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. All this at the expense of the American taxpayer. I wonder what dad would say, she thought, cleaning the bit of food from her plate. He was always against excessive government spending. Maybe I’ll get him a souvenir from this plane, she thought.

 

If I ever get out of this plane or job alive, she thought, remembering her early morning conversation with Andy Sanders. So her predecessor has been missing or even murdered and know one knows why or doesn’t want to say why. Sanders said he didn’t know who all the players were or are. So that means it’s even worse: Hayes could have been tortured, killed and I could the next target...

 

Well, maybe not now since I’m on the world’s most secure aircraft. And everyone here from the Secret Service, to the Air Force Security Personnel, to the catering staff, the medical staff and the White House staffers. There were smiles everywhere despite everyone’s busy work. But wait, wasn’t this the calm scene before hell broke in the movie _Air Force One_?

 

**JAG Headquarters**

**Washington Navy Yard**

 

“Commander, get me this...Commander have you finished xyz report...Commander...” God gosh, Chegwidden must have a huge folder of “Commander [Rabb]” duties, Harm thought. So I made a mistake over the NCIS case of Singer; doesn’t mean you have to hold a grudge at me for so long. After another half an hour of almost endless duties, Harm finally received a break and retreated to the sanctuary of his office.

 

Email off, blinds drawn. I don’t want any disturbances for a while, he thought. Just as he loosen his tie and slouch down, his eyes spotted the note he wrote the other day. Oh, that lady wanting to know about her husband. That Laramie guy who’s name doesn’t appear on any Armed Forces database. She said still wanted to be notified if there was any information on him. Well there certainly wasn’t. The usual protocol was to pass it to the low ranking junior JAG officers. Yet there was extremely mysterious that captivate Harm. Laramie, Larmie, Harm wrote the name down and tried to re-arrange as if it was an anagram. A-RM...no...M-A-L....I-M...nope, nothing at all.

 

Maybe that’s not the right spelling. Maybe she was too depressed to spell the name correct. L-A-R-M-Y, Harm typed. Nothing. L-A-M-I-E. Nothing. Harm kept on trying and trying until he heard Turner knocking on door.

 

“If it’s Chegwidden assisting me to some menial duty, tell him I’m in the toilet with serious stomach ache,” Harm called.

 

“It’s me and not him, and we have the Casswell case to still finalise.”

 

Phew, Harm thought, locking his computer. “So, what were you scribbling and typing about? I’ve not seen you scribbling and typing so intensively like that before?”

 

“Oh, nothing really,” Harmon Rabb lied. He would later find it would be something extremely critical.

 

**Air Force One**

**Over the skies of Alaska**

 

Well, nothing happened so far so I’m still alive, Skates thought. The refuelling at Elmendorf was like a commercial airline stop over, except that not many people onboard left the aircraft. Well, POTUS and some of his staffers did head down to meet the air force personnel. Heck, he got to visit the troops while I got to sit with a briefcase.

 

A briefcase POTUS would only use if the world was going to hell, Skates thought as she used the rather cramped AFO toilet. I’ve treated my Tomcats and Hornets like a friend and even kissed one of them. But I don’t think I’ll ever kiss you, Skates thought, looking down at the Football.

 

“Everything ok, Commander, uh, Skates?” Agent Michael Coppinger said as Skates encountered him again in the passengeway.

 

“Uh, I’m Fine thanks,” she replied, lying. In Air Force One, the Secret Service Chief was the mole. Could Coppinger be the one who made Hayes disappear or kill him?

 

“Just relax, everything’s under control,” was all he said, then moved off speaking into he handset.

 

Yeah, yeah, everthing’s fine Skates though sarcastically as she looked out through the windows. I’m stuck carrying a doomsday device because my predecessor mysteriously disappeared and no one wants to tell me anything. Damnit, she thought and started singing Sloop John B.

 

To Be Continued...            

 

 

*Elmendorf is now Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson. Remember this is during the first Bush Administration.

 

** Back then. Now of course, it’s Joint Base Andrews.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks for all the reviews. I know I said real-life Bush Administration characters would appear in the last chapter, but they didn’t. Maybe over here. It is a challenge to figure which Bush Administration official is which in 2003. As before, the story below is entire fictional and does not represent the political actions of any US administration._

_This takes place before Kate Todd entered the NCIS World but to alter the storyline a bit Gibbs and Fornell were already best friends before the “Harmon Rabb” and “Yankee White cases._

 

**Gibbs’ Home**

**Somewhere in Virginia**

**2000 hours local**

 

“You didn’t exactly leave the front door open, I had to enter via the back,” Senior Special Agent Tobias Fornell called as he descended the steps into the basement.

 

“And usually I find you watching old Western movies this evening. You’re down here instead. What’s the new boat’s name? Diane?”

 

“Names don’t really matter,” Gibbs said, continuing to scrub.

 

“I recognize this signal. You’re annoyed or angry with me again.” Gibbs didn’t immediately reply.

 

“What’s it Jethro? Still angry that I suggested Blackadder to you? So I’m sorry she was a Pain in the Ass. She’s out of the Bureau now, if that is any consolation for you.”

 

“That whiny girl is the least of my worries,” Gibbs mumbled, still shaving the wooden block.

 

“Then what’s bugging you? That the FBI had too much credit for the attack against POTUS?”

 

Gibbs dropped his polishing equipment and finally blurted, “It’s because you always have insider knowledge which stops me from performing my job.”

 

“Hey, hey what insider information? You have the same security clearance as I do…”

 

“My gut tells me you know something about a potential attack against a US Navy target, you and a whole host of people.”

 

“You’re…gut? Jethro you’ve thought too much with it. Yes, I’ve heard about the threat from NSA and we have a task force set up to look into it as well. But that’s as far as I know. I swear.”

 

Gibbs stared at his long time friend for a few minutes then blurted, “I still think you know something else.”

 

“Know? I know…ok this is what I think, and it’s just a guess. It’s something larger than just the Navy, something which neither of our agencies can handle.”

 

**On board Air Force One**

**En route to Beijing, People’s Republic of China**

**One day earlier due to the International Date Line**

 

The seat belt sign blinked green and everyone started to unbuckle their belts. You may be in the world’s most powerful aircraft which could help POTUS direct a war, Skates thought, yet you still needed to obey the seat belt signs. The Japan trip was pretty interesting—POTUS gave rather detailed speech and answers on US trade, defence and cultural policy exchanges to Japan. He also did give a rather over-patriotic speech to the troops at Kadena Air Force Base.

 

Despite having to stand in the sidelines and sometimes in a nearby separate room, Skates still got to exchange greetings with a number of Japanese and civilian officials. None of them, even those who spoke English, gave any special interest in the device she was holding in her occasionally sore left hand. I’m just another figure amongst this sea of Executive Branch and federal government family, she thought. I carry the briefcase that can help start or response to a nuclear attack or large scale national disaster, but no one cares who I am. Oh well, she thought, it’s just a job, a temporary job...

 

Well, it’s not the only task I have, Skates thought. I’m also to help one of my bosses look out for anyone or anything that might have a relation to the disappearance of my processor, Hayes. Disappearance, so far the story she hear made it sound like a murder. Which probably means I am also a target. Damnit, she thought, someone get me back to my noisy carrier where I can teach newbies how to operate weapon systems and how to fly. Harm, you’re in the legal corps, help me?

 

“Commander,” a staffer suddenly interrupted her pessimistic thoughts. “Staff meeting, side conference room, now.” He didn’t even say please, she thought as she lifted the doomsday device and her service head dress. As it was with other with or White House-related or joint forces events, there was a sea of Navy, Army, Air Force and Marine officers and enlisted personnel, as well as civilians. Skates immediately spotted the Deputy National Security Advisor Hadley at the front of the room.

 

“Listen up,” the same staffer who briefed them at the White House began. “We’ll in landing in Beijing in just under an hour. As you know, the PRC hasn’t exactly been that supportive of our efforts in the War on Terror. The President won’t be visiting major landmarks but we expect some sort of state-supported protest against us during the visit. As mentioned, keep a look out, do not stray from the team and under no circumstances should you engage in conversations with PRC officials beyond anything sanction by your superiors. If in doubt, refer to me or my team. Mr. Deputy National Security Advisor?”

 

What a long title, Skates thought. “I just like to repeat what Jim has said.  The PRC may not be an ally or an adversary, but we need to strengthen our relationship with the country; it’s helping with anti-terror efforts in the Pacific. As it is with all our overseas trips, the USSS and our security staff will scan your living quarters but this being China, they may especially tap your conversations, where even you are. You,” he indicated towards Skates. “Yessir,” she immediately stood up at attention, not likely the rude tone or the several dozen eyes looking at her. “You must be extra careful with yourself and the Football. Stick behind and really do not talk to anyone.”

 

“Yes sir,” she repeated. I am a target, she thought gloomily. A big target with no one to run to.

 

**JAG Headquarters**

**Around the same time**

 

“Court is adjourned,” Judge Seabring banged the gravel and the court rose. “Nice one again, Bud,” Harm shook hands with the junior JAG. “That was a great defence.”

 

“Thanks to you sir,” Lieutenant Roberts replied. “You gave me the suggestion. Join me and Harriet for a coffee break?”

 

“Nah, I’ve got something to catch up with.” Back in his office with door closed and blinds drawn, Harm retrieve a file from his safe and tapped his pen against it. Laramie, Laramie who the hell are you? Why aren’t you on the service records database?

 

“I’m busy!” Harm cried at the sudden knocking on the door. “Sir.” The chirp voice responded.

 

“Yup Coates?”

 

“Sorry if you are sir but you know me...”

 

“Know you?”

 

“I’m sometimes nosey sir and forgive me, Commander,” The young Legalman Second Class began, “but I was overhearding the case you had in the JAG duty officer’s office and...”

 

“Step in Jennifer,” Harm used her first name which surprised her. Door locked and blinds drawn once more, Harm motioned her to carry on.

 

“Well, I over her sir and I well saw her exit. You know I’m just new here but I’ve made good friends with the Master-at-Arms especially Corporal Wright...”

 

“Don’t tell me you’re dating him.”

 

“No sir, nothing to that level. Anyway, I was chatting to Jon during break not office hours sir, and we were at desk. Well, I remembered the time that lady left sir, so I flicked through Jon’s record book. But there was no record of the that lady entering or even leaving the building at all!”

 

To be Continued

 

PS: It’s shorter than usual, but that’s how it is.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

_Come on people, do review the previous chapter._

 

**Beijing, People’s Republic of China (PRC)**

**1800 local**

 

“Wǎnshang hǎo,” Skates heard the President greet the Chinese audience in “Good evening”, as  she sat in side room. After catching a pretty unique Chinese dinner with some of the members of the US delegation and corresponding PRC officials, she found herself whisk to a side room with only audio speakers, a couple of painting of depicting China’s historical past and scattered pieces of furniture. There were two other Secret Service agents several hundred yards away, guarding two separate doors each.

 

Beijing’s a pretty nice place despite the communist government in place, Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth Hawkes thought. The city layout is rather nice despite the traffic jams, it is arranged pretty orderly. The people, even those she saw on the street, are pretty courteous. As for the food, well, at least some of it was pretty delicious. Skates was a fan authentic Chinese cuisine and had adventurous tastebuds. The American delegation was provided with specially prepared food, but there were local delicacies to sample and she loved most of them. Well except for the language barrier, everything in Beijing seems pretty cool. I could possibly migrate here...

 

If I could get out of this damn posting, Skates thought, looking down at the Football. Damn you, she thought. I don’t want to keep lugging you anymore than I have to. Nor do I want to open you if there’s going to be a nuclear war or the President wants to start one. I rather throw down my stripes and walk out. I rather...

 

“Heya,” Skates heard a voice and turned to see a bearded man sitting down beside her. “Interesting speech huh?”

 

“Hi...no I didn’t; wasn’t concentrating,” Skates replied. “Are you one of the staffers?”

 

“Yeah, one of the junior assistants to the assistant of the assistant of... it’s a whole jin-jang of terms. Mike Sinclair,” he extended his hand.

 

“Lieutenant Commander Hawkes, I’m the...”

 

“Football carrier. Great to see a gal doing it. Scared of the device yet? You hold the key to  global annihilation. You are the key to...”

 

“Excuse me sir, but please move away. You’re not authorised to be here,” Skates looked up to see one of the Secret Service Agents. “Hey...I’ll catch you later,” the guy called as he was led away.

 

“Commander, I told you not to talk to anyone unauthorised, that included people from our delegation,” Skates looked up to see the Deputy National Security.

 

“Yessir,” she grunted. Personally, she wondered if Hadley or that guy knew anything about her predecessor’s disappearance or possibility even death? I hate this job...

 

**JAG Headquarters**

**0800 local**

 

“Here’s the log book sir,” the JAG duty Master-at-arms showed Harm the visitor’s entry log book. “Yes I remember checking in that lady, but no, I wasn’t focused on her all the time.”

 

“Well, let’s see,” Harm peered at the log book. “15145, 1548, 1551, 1552, 1555...Mrs Laramie came to me at, no around 1550.” Harm ran his fingers across the page. “Nothing seems torn or distorted.”

 

“Here’s the CCTV sir,” the other duty Master-at-arms flicked on the screen. “There’s your woman. We don’t exactly angle the camera to focus on the record book but you can see her bending over. Now, here’s when we assumed she exited. Nothing, everyone is passing except her. I can definitely say I saw her exit.”

 

“Well, the case of the missing lady from the log book and the video. And out of contact. We should...”

 

“Morning people,” Rear Admiral (Upper Half) Chegwidden greeted them and the duty men and Harm quickly snapped to attention. “Anything interesting?”

 

Harm was about to consider telling his boss what he discovered but realised it wasn’t anything concrete and plus, it wasn’t exactly a JAG case. “Nothing, Admiral,” he replied.

 

“Then see you upstairs.”

 

**NCIS Headquarters**

**Around the same time**

 

“Talk to me Dinozzo, Dobbs,” Gibbs called, draining his coffee.

 

“Boss, nothing at all. Dobbs and I have gone through hundreds, well nearly thousands of possibilities,” Dinozzo replied, catching a yawn.

 

Gibbs acknowledged and tapped his fingers against his desk. What on earth is this case? Or is it a case at all?

 

**On Board Air Force One**

**Heading to the Middle East**

 

_“Steward, there’s some in the cabin!” a reporter, pointing at the haziness arising from the floor. Smoke? Skates thought. Wait...suddenly she heard multiple gun shots and then a wave of individuals, Secret Service Agents rushing by, their side arms drawn. Then rapid, ear-shattering gunfire was heard and she saw several agents collapse at once, their weapons clattering down on the ground. Before she could even move, another trio of agents rush past her and less than two minutes later, POTUS was between two agents, the third firing his weapon rapidly towards the source of the gun fire. “Mr. Presi...” before she could even call out, something exploded against her chest and the Lieutenant Commander fell to the ground, only hearing her Commander-in-Chief call out, “The Football...”_

 

Skates woke up with a start, perspiration soaking her uniform. Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, she quickly touched her chest and only found her ribbons on her left side. I’m alright, I’m alright, she told herself, though it took another few seconds for her heartbeat to return to normal. Where was...oh thank goodness, the  Football was just between her legs. Just before she could move, she heard, “having a dream?”

 

Skates looked up and saw Agent Michael Coppigner looking at her. “Oh...hi Agent Coppinger,” she croaked. “Uh...it was...” she didn’t want to say nightmare. Naval Aviators or former RIOs, especially O-4s, should have nightmares.

 

“Here, some water,” he passed her a cup and she drained it thankfully. “You’re a lifesave, Agent...”

 

“Outside of duty it’s Mike,” he smiled and she returned the gesture.

 

“I guess you won’t want to tell me want to were dreaming, or having a nightmare about,” he leaned against the aircraft frame.

 

“Uh...it’s all really silly. It was that scene out of Air Force One the movie where the reporters, the terrorists, got the weapons from the cabinet and started to shoot everyone in sight. I...dreamt that I was caught in the crossfire...”

 

“Skates right? You’re in the real AFO and everyone, journalists, Secret Service, agents and Chief of Detail, even waiters are checked out. No one’s going to be some ultra-terrorist  and take over the plane. I hope that helps.”

 

“Yeah but...” Skates pondered for a few seconds, wondering if she should tell him what Sanders told her. But the Colonel was explicit, tell no one, trust no one. Would that also include this kind Secret Service Agent? “Uh..yeah...I guess it’s really silly. I’ve watched that movie too many times during my carrier deployments.”

 

“We all have our funny moments Skates. You need anything else? Angel, AFO has the all the luxuries. If you aren’t USSS, you can enjoy most of it.”

 

“Not know. Thanks Agent...Mike. I better fresh up and change up before we land again.” She shook his hand and headed for the toilet.

 

To Be Continued.     

 

       


	9. Chapter 9

_Thanks to those who reviewed. Please review the chapters!!!_

_Note: I don’t know if AFO usually lands at Kuwaiti International Airport, given the other possible airports in Kuwait. I just chose it immediately._

_The POTUS here is yes GWB and so I’m trying hard to write the character as he was._

_Skates doesn’t have a Maryland accent—I made that up._

 

**On board Air Force One**

**Heading towards Kuwaiti International Airport**

 

Damn, what’s the time now? Skates thought. In a normal airliner, she would have been able to access a screen or even open one of the shutters but neither was possible given her position and responsibility on AFO. The grandest and supposedly most secure aircraft in the world, and yet you don’t have freedom to move around. This is especially since you’re the one carrying the doomsday device and having to stay awake with in almost full time. “Lieutenant Commander Hawkes?” Skates thoughts were jolted as she looked up to yet another suited official. This one didn’t have any wired earpieces so he couldn’t be a Secret Service Agent. “POTUS would like to have a word with you.”

 

“Wha…at?” Skates nearly fell down from the chair she was slouching it.

 

“The President would like to have a word with you,” he repeated. “Follow me.” Oh shit, shit, Skates wore silently. Where’s my…phew I didn’t lose my cover. But damnit, did I do something wrong? Did I sleep on the job? Did I show disrespect to any foreign signatories’? Or worse, did I reveal nuclear-related secrets? Skates limbs were shaking as she followed the staffer who then suddenly disappeared to a side corridor, revealing two Secret Service agents, one male, one female. The female one approached her and frisked her thoroughly, although she didn’t specifically touch Skates’ left arm. It was only then the male agent opened the door to reveal the President. POTUS was in an AFO jacket and shirt without tie, slouching in his chair and reading a Presidential folder.

 

Skates immediately snapped to attention as the President drawled in his Texan accent, “Ah, hello Lieutenant Commander Hawkes. Thanks Jarrod.” The Secret Service just stood there, hands crossed. “I said thank you Jarrod. It’s a personal meeting.” The agent paused then nodded and left. “Uh, good…morning Mr. President,” Skates finally blurted out, hoping she got the time of the day correct. The weight of the football strained her left muscles even more and she hoped she wouldn’t drop her service cover tucked under her right arm.

 

“Heya, sit down. Relax,” POTUS pointed. “Coffee?” He held up jug.

 

“Uh, no thank you Mr. President,” Skates stuttered.

 

“By your tone, I believe you need some,” her poured a cup. “Help yourself to cream and sugar.” Skates only hesitantly shifted the mug towards her but didn’t touch it.

“Relax. I may be your Commander-in-Chief, Commander, but that doesn’t mean I’m your worst nightmare. I’m not here to terrorise you;  just to get to know to better.

 

Get to know me? Me, a lowly O-4?  “Oh..” was all she could muster.

 

“You’re accent…you’re from Maryland?”

 

“Yes sir, you’re good at spotting.” Ok, so he’s good at that. Still doesn’t mean you’re not going to be hard on me.

 

“Nice state Maryland. But tough battle there. Didn’t the electoral votes.” Oh yeah, the Democrats got it. My father definitely didn’t want this man as POTUS.

 

“Don’t worry; I’m not going to question your political leanings. Yours interests? Basketball? Football? Baseball?”

 

“Uh, some baseball. But I’ve hardly had time to watch games given my duties.” I mean my flight duties, she thought.

 

“I’m sure it is a different world for you without the F-14,” The president quipped. F/A-18F, Skates correctly, but didn’t want to say that out loud.  

 

“You sound a bit uneasy Commander, something troubling you?” Should tell him what Colonel Sanders told me? Does he know what happened to my predecessor? Was he murdered?

 

“Uh, just still trying to get used to this role, Mr. President,” she lied.

 

“That’s what all the ‘Ball carriers tell me,” the President gave a short laugh which didn’t ease Skates’ mind. “You were previously on the Patrick Henry right?” The President pronounced ‘Henry’ like “Han-ry”. Skates nodded as the President continued, “I believe the carrier and its group is somewhere in the Gulf, possibly near Kuwait. I’ll like to take a short detour there.”

 

“Oh…for my sake, sir?” The President is willing to shift his schedule to visit my “hometown”?!

 

“Well, as I first told you, the highlight of my career was on the USS Abraham Lincoln,” he replied. Oh that ‘great’ ‘Mission Accomplished speech’, Skates thought. “I love to have another chance to say thanks to personnel serving on Operation Iraqi Freedom and Enduring Freedom. And you definitely have to tag along.”

 

Back to the good noisy and oily carrier life, Skates thought. Even if it’s just for a moment. “Thank you Mr. President. It’s a great surprise gift and…”

 

“Thank you Commander, you’re the one serving. I…” the phone next to him beeped and he answered. “Yeah…yes I know my meeting schedules. Yes, there’s still time, I’ll be there.” Turning back to Skates, the President remarked, “even President’s have to keep to their schedule. Finish up your coffee, Commander Hawkes and I’ll see you around.”

 

**JAG Headquarters**

**1030 local**

 

Harm quickly locked his door and closed his blinds. Suddenly a voice blurted out, “you know sir, I’ve done terrible things in the past, but none of them has made me squeeze under desk.”

 

“Sorry Coates, I didn’t think the Admiral would endorse you working behind his back, especially on something as trivial as this,” Harm replied, helping her up. “What did you find?”

 

“Nothing, absolutely nothing. Either the Masters at arms played a magic trick, the CCTV is faulty, or there’s some higher power who miraculously is changing log books.”

 

“Ok, thanks a lot Coates, I owe you for this. Better return the book downstairs then, before the Admiral is back from his meetings.”

 

“What about that mystery woman sir? Any luck?”

 

“I’ve got Bud going through the CCTV and trying to figure out her husband’s surname out.”

 

**NCIS Headquarters**

**Around the same time**

 

The MCRT Team had finished their search for terrorist threats against US naval ships and installations and turned up nothing. As Gibbs rested back in his chair, he received a call. “Gibbs, huh? Woman stalking around your apartment? That’s not the Navy’s purview, oh, what? No it’s not really a NCIS job, thank you…fine, I’ll see about it.”

 

“Something up boss?” Dinozzo asked.

 

“Landlady keeps saying a strange woman is walking around one of her tenants apartments, and that that guy is a Navy Commander.”

 

“As you said boss, that’s not a call for the MCRT or senior NCIS role.”

 

“Still, the sun is out of a bit. Want to take a walk?”

 

To Be Continued.  


	10. Chapter 10

_Thanks to those who reviewed, please review more!!!!_

_I mean no insults to the citizens of Washington Highlands, especially Park Southern Apartments_

**JAG Headquarters**

**The same time**

 

“Sir, I found something!!!” Lieutenant Bud Roberts called out just as Harm exited his office.

 

“Bud, information about cases don’t need to be called out,” Harm replied, but this was also a signal not to announce this informal investigation in the open to the whole office.

 

“I was thinking about the last name ‘Laramie’ and well I guessed it could have spelt differently, like the lady could have misspelt the name for whatever reason. Anyway, I found three names with ‘Laramy’, ‘Laramee’ and ‘Laramey’. The three reveal exactly three different names: one an old veteran living in the outskirts of Virginia, the second an elderly man with his wife having served as nursing officer in Vietnam and the third, a Commander posted to a classified unit in the Pentagon. Here are the addresses.”

 

“Well, that’s most definitely the one. Thanks Bud, Coates,” Harm acknowledged their work.

 

“Sir you’re going out? You’ve got some cases to prepare,” Legalman Second Class Coates protested.

 

“I know, I’ll be back,” Harm gave a terrible imitation of the Terminator’s voice as he place on his coat.

 

**Kuwait International Airport**

**Sometime later**

 

I can’t believe it, Skates thought as she walked with the mini entourage towards Marine One. I can’t believe I’m heading back home to my ‘home’—the carrier, where the family is, where the laughter and noise is and where the great smell of jet fuel is. It’s where the fun is—being on alert, planning missions, enjoying banter with the guys and gals and still getting all messed up during any Crossing the Line ceremony. Home...

 

“Here, let me take your hand,” Skates turned to see Special Agent Coppinger. “Oh, heh thanks,” Skates replied as he helped her onboard. “Where do I sit?” she enquired.

 

“You have the front,” Skates heard the familiar Texan voice of the President and quickly moved forward through the cabin towards POTUS. “Afternoon Mister President,” Skates quickly greeted him, sitting down with the Football nestled between her legs. “Thank you very much for this.”

 

“It’s me who should thank for this Commander,” POTUS replied as the last marine stepped onboard. Marine One lifted off and after the ‘shell game’, all three identical helicopters headed out to sea. Within minutes, Skates’ heart leaped as she spotted her old carrier and strike group. “Folks ensure you’re buckled up; we’re about to land.” With a slight bump, Marine one was safely on board the carrier, with blueshirts and yellowshirts securing the helicopters of HMX-1. The Marines in full dress uniform exited first and then with a signal, POTUS did, with Agent Coppinger trailing closely behind. Skates could hear Rear Admiral Lawrence, the Ship’s CO Captain Steve Galindez and the CAG, Captain Louis Brennan. Let me out, let me out, Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth Hawkes pleaded silently, unable to bear the tension further. Finally, the signal was given and as she stepped back on the flight deck, Skates nearly fell, not used to wearing dress whites on the noisy and smelly deck.

 

“Careful, ma’am,” a brownshirt helped her then they both recognised each other. “Welcome back Commander!!!” Skates’ plane captain Aviation Structural Mechanic (Equipment) First Class Robert Brickley exclaimed.

 

“Heya Brick,” Skates said, nearly bending forward to hug him had it not been for her cover and the Football. “Great to be back.”

 

“Yeah ma’am, you plane is waiting for you. We’ve got to catch up...”

 

“Uh, I better join the detail. But hope I can catch up,” Skates as walked briskly towards POTUS and his delegation. “...Great job you are doing here, Admiral,” she heard POTUS drawl. “Great contribution to the War on Terror.”

 

“Thank you Mr. President,” Admiral Lawrence quickly replied. “And thank you for taking time off your schedule to visit us.”

 

“Oh no problem at all, you know how I love to acknowledge troops contributing to security and safety,” POTUS continued, then suddenly turned towards Skates. “I’ve got one example here. Understand that Commander Hawkes here used to be with ya guys. But she’s a great Football keeper.”

 

Oh shit, he’s praising me! Skates thought. All I’ve done so far is to lug this thing around. Well, also to kind of find out out—unsuccessfully so far—who murdered my predecessor.

 

“Uh, thanks, Mister President,” Skates muttered.

 

“No, thank you,” both POTUS and the Admiral said in unison and Skates nearly stumbled again, shocked by the praise of her senior commander and her Commander-in-chief.

 

**Somewhere in Washington Highlands, Washington D.C**

**Sometime later, East Coast time**

 

Man, and I thought I lived in a run-down area, Harmon Rabb thought to himself as he studied the surroundings. He knew that Washington Highlands was a low-income area, but didn’t expect this sort of surroundings. “Hey watcha sailor boy!!!” Harm shifted and gladed he did as some hooligan threw a basket full of trash in his direction.

 

“Hugo, stop that! I told you to stop that!!!” Harm saw a short lady drag her son into her house. “I’m so sorry, my son has never been courteous since his father was abused. By the military they said.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear,” Harm quickly said. “Uh, Commander Harm Rabb. Do you know where this apartment block is?”

 

“Park Southern? Just around that corner young man. But really a person of your kind shouldn’t be here. My son’s action are just one of the many.”

 

“Thank you anyway,” Harm said with a nod and headed there.

 

**Park Southern Apartments**

**The same time**

 

“Dinozzo, you took twenty minutes to get us here,” Gibbs grumbled.

 

“Sorry boss, didn’t know you knew the time from the Navy Yard to this...area,” Dinozzo replied, sniffing the odour of the area.

 

“Done drug busting cases here as a probie,” Gibbs said as an elder lady approached. “NCIS,” they flashed their badges. “You said some lady was lurking around a room?”

 

“Yeah,” the land lady said. “Actually went to check again, but she’s gone. Sorry if I’m wasting your time. Used to have a relative in the NIS, and the guy I know living there is some Navy person, so thought I call you people.”

 

“Ok,” Gibbs replied and asked if there was any other way in. With a negative reply, both Special Agents took the lift up and surveyed the area. Seeing no soul in sight, Dinozzo announcing their presence. No answer, they drew their Sig Sauers and with a click, the door opened to reveal a dead male body on the ground, and Commander Harmon Rabb.

 

To Be Continued.

 


	11. Chapter 11

_Thanks for the reviews_

_There are conflicting reports as to what facilities Marine One (back in 2003)had. Some say it came equipped with a toilet, some say just wash basin, some say bathroom. What every wording, American or British English, I decided to just say Marine One has a wash basin. I can’t imagine a modified Sea King with a toilet bowl and flush._

_As before, this is fiction; in reality there would be as many as five Football carriers (from all four defense armed services and the Coast Guard) rotating 24/7/265. See http ://www.sjpba.net/Farsider/images14/102314_files/image010.jpg_

_I just realised that in reality, NCIS Headquarters is in Quantico, Virginia, not the Navy Yard as in the TV series. But I’ll follow what I wrote._

 

**Park Southern Apartments**

 

“Give me one, no some good reasons why I shouldn’t cuff you right now and haul you to a cell,” Gibbs said, circling Rabb like a Hawk ready to catch its prey with its claws.

 

“I didn’t do anything,” Rabb argued.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Ok, really I didn’t do anything,” Harm argued then recounted his story from the meeting with the Mrs Laramie to her disappearance from the JAG CCTV to his discovery of the dead subject through a different spelling of the name. “What are you doing here Gibbs?”

 

“It’s classified.”

 

“Oh really?”

 

“We have more reason to be here than you, Rabb,” Gibbs added, though he himself was mystified by the whole situation.

 

“Area is clear boss,” Dinozzo announced as he returned to the room. “Female subject in question isn’t in the vicinity but I got a description from the other lady.”

 

“Ah Jethro, a good time to drag me out of my cave into the sunshine,” Dr. Donald ‘Ducky’ Mallard announced his presence.

 

“Duck, what do we have here?”

 

“Good gosh Jethro, I just came in,” Ducky replied then quickly examined the body. “Very pale eyes, swollen eyes, could be poisoning. Ah, young man, you will speak to me and tell me you unfortunate story,” Duck launched into his usual talk as the body was marked and carried away.

 

“You better come down to the HQ with us Rabb,” Gibbs motioned and they all filled out with different queries on their minds.

 

**Enroute to the White House**

**The Same Time**

 

Skates discovered to her delight that even Marine One, the actual Sea King that holds POTUS has a wash basin inside. I guess I have to thank POTUS for inviting to riding here rather than the other cramped Sea Kings, she thought. Even so, all she did was sit in an allocated space and watch POTUS talk to his senior advisers and cabinet secretaries. Oh yeah, and watch the Secret Service Agents as well. Skates particularly was interested in Agent Coppinger as he reminded her of her own brother—his talk, his looks, his smile. In fact she could just imagine Michael and herself...snap out of it Elizabeth Catherine Hawkes, she scolded herself, you’re a married woman. But I’ve hardly seen my husband since we’ve married...

 

 Skates’ thoughts about her lack of a romantic relationship were cut short as soon as she literally hit US soil. After being allowed a short toilet break, she was whisked to the Pentagon for a briefing on global nuclear weapons. Although she had caught a good sleep onboard Air Force One, her body was still on different time zones as she heard briefings on Russian RT-2PM movements, Chinese Dongfeng intermediate and long range developments, French M45 and the movements of other smaller nuclear weapon states. Then it was a quick flight to HQ US Strategic Command, to get further briefings on nuclear weapon proliferation and a mock exercise involving the Football which she just barely passed. With the words ‘re-learn’, ‘practice’ and worse, ‘buck up sailor’, Skates found herself tumbling back into her office. Before she could even catch a breath, she found a note at her desk.

 

SEE YOU IN MEETING ROOM 48

 

AS

 

Damnit, Skates swore and headed down. 45, 46, 47...”Hello,” Skates nearly dropped the Football as her superior greeted her. “Shit, uh sorry sir,” she quickly reverted to military protocol, “Evening.”

 

“Hi Hawkes, how was the travel?”

 

“Better than a sail around the world sir,” she told the truth.

 

“Found or see anything unusual?”

 

“Nothing really...oh that,” she suddenly remembered her secretive assignment. “Just one staffer, Sinclair, Mike Sinclair, who was trying to strike a conversation with me.”

 

“Sinclair,” Sanders mentally noted the name down as he double checked that the room was locked and anti-eavesdropping device was on . “Anything or anyone else?”

 

“No sir. Truthfully and frankly sir, I think this is a wild goose...this is too much like a Tom Clancy novel sir. Someone’s not tell me something, it’s either you or not telling you.”

 

“Hawkes...Elizabeth, I told you I don’t know who the real players are.”

 

“Well sir, then as I said before, let someone else investigate. I don’t think I’m up to all this spy play.”

 

“You don’t sound like a quiter.”

 

“No, sir,” Skates hoped this would end. “No, all I want is to get this assignment done and over and...and get back to the noisy, salty life on a carrier. Permission to end this and get a change?” Skates realised that she hadn’t really changed out of her uniform and underwear for hours.

 

“It’s Football duties, Commander. You have just enough time to head back, get a change and return hear. Don’t worry, the White House has nice quarters for officers.”      

 

**Washington Navy Yard**

**Around the same time**

 

“Damn it Rabb,” AJ Chegwidden growled. “I know you’ve spent time away from your legal duties and on missions beyond your responsibilities, but there are lines you can’t cross.”

 

“Sir, I don’t even know what more than half of this is all about,” Harm protested.

 

“Yeah, you don’t or didn’t. But now you’ve oh joy of joys, had to spent time with NCIS star agent Gibbs again.”

 

“I wasn’t charged or thrown in the interrogation room sir,” Harm argued.

 

“You weren’t and will not. I believe you’ve passed them everything you know about this weird dead officer case? Good, now back to your cases Commander. Don’t you dare sneek out again.”

 

The grilling over, Harm returned to his office then checking that the blinds were closed, he opened up the IM. “Hey Spotty,” he typed to Bud’s username, “continue the search as requested. You’re flying well.” Then he clicked on the username ‘Irishgal’. “You too. Search away.”

 

To Be Continued.


	12. Chapter 12

_Thanks for the all the reviews._

 

**White House Military Office Inner Office**

**2000 hours local**

 

Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth Hawkes barely made it in time to settle in for her night duity. Damnit, she thought, even when on Alert 5 status, I at least have Aviation Boatswain's Mates, Aviation Machinist's Mates, Aviation Electrician's Mates and others to help me ready myself. Here, I’m alone, not even the administrative Warrant Officer is with me tonight, she thought. All I have is some trashy love story which I’ve read before and oh yes, Mister Football. Skates stared at the briefcase. Oh you, you which will lead to nuclear devastation, nuclear winter, the end of mankind, the end of planet earth. You don’t need an X-Files-type alient invasion or a planet killer like in the movies Deep Impact and Armageddon. No sir, just find a reason for POTUS and SECDEF to open this briefcase, select any option, transmit it to NMCC and then….

 

**JAG Headquarters**

**Washington Navy Yard**

**The same time**

 

“Have a good evening sir,” Legalman Second Class Jennifer Coates bade her boss farewell for the day and received the same greeting in reply. Double checking that the Admiral had really left, she finally headed to the JAG meeting room and opened a side door. “All clear sirs,” she said to Harm and Bud Roberts.

 

“Thanks Coates,” Harm replied, then noticed her look. “Something wrong?”

 

“Permission to speak freely sir?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“The last time I did this cloak-and-dagger game was during a daring raid on a major departmental store during my delinquent years sir. I mean, do we really have to be this secretive or do we really have to look into this?”

 

“Coates, Jenn, you know why. You’re welcome to head home, no pressure on you.”

 

Jennifer Coates looked at the officer, the only who showed concern for her and then replied, “Alright sir. I hope we’ve food for the night though.”

 

“Bud,” Harm motioned and out came packets of Chinese takeway. Jennifer swallowed a spoonful of fried rice, found it greasy, and pick out a a Won Ton. “So to summarise…” Harm began.

 

“We have a ‘dead’ or ‘missing’ Commander Laramie, as well as his wife, whose sign in entry in the log book has also disappeared,” Bud started, then spooned a load of Chow Mein into his mouth. “And then I found that address by some officer whose name spelt ‘Laramey’. Finally, Commander Rabb went to that address and found a dead body, along with the NCIS team.”

 

“So, the mystery is still dark,” Harm summarised, biting down on a vegetarian spring roll. “How classified is classified? What exactly did this Laramey work on?”

 

“Well sir, I’m not that skilled a hacker, but I managed to trace down some part of his past assignments. Most of it is redacted, can you believe a Lieutenant JG gets a his service record blackout? I mean…”

 

“Bud, we don’t have all evening…” Harm steered him

 

“Sorry sir, there was only one line that stood out. ‘Staff officer to the SOR Delegation’. Do you know what SOR states for?”

 

**White House Military Office Inner Office**

**2300 hours local**

 

_“Commander, they need in the Situation Room, now,” An aide yelled. “There’s an international incident.” Skates immediately flung down her book and grabbed the football with her right hand and raced out of her office. As she did so, someone immediately grabbed her from behind and the Football fell, its edge dropping hard on her right foot. Skates drew up all her energy and struggled against this assailant but out came the blade of a knife. “Noo..” she cried but her throat was immediately and blood flowed out…_

 

“Huh, huh….” Elizabeth Hawkes snapped out of her nightmare, panting furiously. Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I dreamt of my own death, she thought. I’ve faced numerous night carrier landings before, got caught in a ramp strike once, flew through enemy anti-aircraft fire with Harm, but I’ve never, never dreamt of someone killing me. Damnit, it’s all because of the mystery behind my predecessor. It’s all Colonel Sanders fault. Why can’t he have official enquiry into that guy’s disappearance or death? It would make things so much simpler. Oh, please, get me out of this posting soon…

 

Finding her uniform soaked with sweat, Skates proceeded to the toilet when the desk phone rang. Shit, is it for real? An international incident requiring the Football? “Lieutenant Commander Hawkes here,” she answered, wiping the perspiration off her forehead.

 

“Hawkes, Lindsey here,”. Oh great.

 

“Uh, yessir.” Then realising her mistake with communications, she quickly flicked through the cards on her desk and said, “Authenticate Sierra-Tango.”

 

“Romeo,” came the reply, and Skates heaved a sigh of relief with the correct answer.

 

“How’s it going so far?” Lindsey asked.

 

“Err, Ok sir, I mean ops-normal.” Except the fact that I had a nightmare.

 

“Ok, just checking in. Good night Hawkes.”

 

 “Night sir.” Boy, let this duty be over smoothly.

 

 

  **JAG Headquarters**

**Washington Navy Yard**

 A while earlier

 

“Jenn, what on earth are you doing with those peas?!” Harm exclaimed. The Legalman used the peas from her fried rice to arrange the letters S, O and R on the plastic plate.

 

“My mother used to teach me how to spell this way when I was a kid,” Coates replied. “She would form letters and ask me to fill in the missing letter or letters. It can’t be just SOR, sir, there’s at least a letter missing.”

 

“Well, ok,” Harm then he laughed. “That doesn’t look like ‘R’ by the way; more like a broken ‘P’.”

 

“You go to dot your ‘I’s and cross your ‘T’s,” Bud mentioned a common phrase while slurping up the remains of his milkshake.

 

“That’s it sir!” Coates exclaimed, using the rest of the peas to form a word. Both officers peered over but couldn’t decipher the reason to the enlisted sailor’s excitement. “Wait,” she wrote the word on her hand.

 

“SORT,” Bud read it out loud. “I’ve heard that before. Wait. Let me think…”

 

“Strategic Offensive Reductions Treaty,” Harm announced. “The upcoming treaty by the President and President of Russia to reduce the size of each of our nuclear forces. It was ratified last year, December 2002, if I’m not mistaken.”

 

“So our mystery Commander was working on arms control,” Bud summarised. “But where is he? Is he that body you found sir? And how about his wife?”

 

To be Continued.  


	13. Chapter 13

_Thank you for the meagre reviews._

_I’ve just realised that in reality, the NCIS Headquarters in based in Quantico, Virginia at the Marine Base there (see http://_ [ _www.ncis.navy.mil/AboutNCIS/Locations/HQ/Pages/default.aspx_ ](http://www.ncis.navy.mil/AboutNCIS/Locations/HQ/Pages/default.aspx) _(join the link). There are MCRT teams based globally and there is a Washington DC field office but that is NOT the main HQ (see http://_ [ _www.ncis.navy.mil/AboutNCIS/Locations/Washington/Pages/default.aspx_ ](http://www.ncis.navy.mil/AboutNCIS/Locations/Washington/Pages/default.aspx) _(again join the link). So that is vastly different from the NCIS TV series. For the sake of the rest of this story, I shall just call it “NCIS Major Crisis Response Team Headquarters, Washington DC.”_

_There’s no such drug as prestinonzone; I made it up._

_This is of course all fiction but as we know in the past and now, North Korea has a nuclear weapons programme and nuclear weapons of the crude kind. Also, I don’t think any POTUS invited any of his Football carriers to dinner, but well that’s the fun of this fanfiction._

_In this scenario (definitely fake), I don’t name the Cabinet or Presidential advisers but it is quite obvious they are GW Bush’s first term members._

_No Harm in this chapter._

 

**Marine Barracks, Washington, D.C.**

**0755 hours**

**A few days later**

Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth Hawkes woke up with a start and glanced at her alarm clock. Screw it, I’m going to be late, she thought as she grabbed her bath accessories. Having lived onboard a ship for more than a decade, Skates was extremely fast in the shower. Just as she exited the shower, she nearly collided with someone else.

 

“Oh,” was the first word from person, who appeared to be dressed in dark jeans and a USMC shirt. He mumbled a ‘sorry’ but before Skates could call him, he disappeared. Great, late rise and nearly dropped my bra and panties in front on a stranger. Back in her room, Skates opted to wear civilian or civvy clothes since her current summer whites ere crumpled and she had a better set in the office. Skates quickly hailed a taxi and then jumped off part of the way and practically ran to the White House. She had just slid her security pass into the WHMO office, another voice startled her.

 

“Hawkes, meeting in conference room in five.”

 

“Huh morning Director Lindsey,” Skates greeted him. “I’ll be there.” Or I’ll be sleeping there, she yawned as she pulled out her spare uniform. Someone save me from me from all this….

 

**NCIS Major Crisis Response Team Headquarters**

**Washington DC**

**The same time**

 

“Good morning Duck,” Senior Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs said, then lifted up his Styrofoam cup of coffee.

 

“Jethro,” Dr. Donald Mallard waved his hand. “You know my rules, get that drink out of here first.” Gibbs noted, exited the autopsy room, finished his drink and re-entered. “So what do you have for me?”

 

“Ah, the poor fellow,” Ducky motioned Gibbs over to one of the autopsy tables where the latest victim lay. “As I suspected, terrible poisoning to the lungs and cardio system causing instant death within a second or two, not even seconds. Abigail has more details regarding the drug and dosage but I can tell you it is not easily accessible. Would even wager it is more than just military grade. It is administered by inhaling not by external objects like needles. In fact, reminds me of a time when a RAMC friend of mine…”

 

But before Ducky could finished his recollection, Gibbs had exited and took the stairs to Abby’s lab. There he found the tattooed forensic scientist playing a game on a touch screen. “Abby,” Gibbs called then extracted the Caf-Pow he had in his bag. “Abby!”

 

“Huh, huh, huh,” Abigail Scuito cried, tumbling down from her chair. Gibbs caught her and noticing the cup of Caf-Pow, Abby took a deep slurp and commented, “Ah, morning nectar,” she murmured.

 

“Abby,” Gibbs repeated himself yet again, tapping his foot.

 

“Oh, yes, ok,” Abby pointed to a machine that was blinking and vibrating away. “Mr. Check-it-out here is analysing the final results, but it is highly likely to be prestinonzone. Nasty little stuff so much that even the intelligence community decided not manufacture it in large batches. Mr. Check-it-out here is analysing the dosage used so that I can tell you who amongst the alphabet soup of numbers—CIA, DIA, FBI, or even our ‘friendly’ intelligence agencies—could hold this monster.”

 

“I sense a but,” Gibbs said.

 

“The director said we initially were looking at a threat to USN personnel or USN bases. Now you have this dead body and weird background from that JAG Rabb. One part of me says leave this aside. The other part of me says…”

 

“Says?” Gibbs asked

 

“That the two cases are connected.”

 

**

**White House Meeting Room**

**The same time**

 

“…and the proliferation extends towards the African region. However, the biggest threat still comes from North Korea, the Democratic People's Republic of Korea which is has most certainly reached the final stage of creating a nuclear warhead and fitting intermediate ranged ballistic missiles (IRBMs) or even a crude intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) missile,” the briefer concluded.

 

“Man, I miss the Cold War,” one senior National Security Council (NSC) commented and WHMO director Lindsey grunted in agreement. “Hey Hawkes, Commander, Lieutenant Commander!” Lindsey called.

 

“Huh…ok…sorry,” Elizabeth Hawkes sat up and looked sheepishly at the rest of the attendees.

 

“Stay awake; you are the key person to remember and utilise this information.” There was much emphasis on the words ‘stay awake’.

 

“Let’s reconvene when the full NSC meets,” Colonel Sanders suggested and the staff dispensed with Sanders motioning the young officer over. Oh shit, she thought. “Hawkes, Skates, just try to be alert ok? Anyway how’s it going?”

 

“I’m ok sir.”

 

“I mean,” he looked around first. “Any progress on the Hayes case?”

 

Skates sighed and shook her head. “Damnit sir, I’m neither here nor there on strategic deterrence, the emergency options or this case about my predecessor. Frankly, it’s scaring me to bits. No, I’ve not found anything and would…”

 

“Would?”

 

“Would like to either finish this assignment with a clear mind and not some nightmare in my head.”

 

“Alright Skates, ease off the case. But if you find anything do tell me.” Skate thanked him grateful but before she could leave, he called, “Commander. Better get yourself a good cup of coffee and wash your face.”

 

**Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center**

**Two weeks later**

 

“Are you certain?” POTUS asked, staring at the screen for the umpteenth time.

 

“Positive sir, I guess we really overlooked them regarding their weapons capabilities but yes, they have the capability to deliver a crude nuclear warhead by aerial means.”

 

“The South Koreans are going ape sir,” the Commander of US Forces briefed via video link. “With the new power grab, the hardliners are literally wielding this tool and their military have…headed to the highest level of alert.” The pause was due to several signals going off behind him.

 

“I take full responsibility for this oversight Mr. President,” the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency chimed in. “I…”

 

“Not blaming you or anyone George,” the President waved his hand. “Now, what we gonna do?”

 

“Mr. President, State is really pushing hard. Our allies are with us and there’s a UNSC meeting convened. But the North Korea rep is missing and their signs that North Korean ambassadors are being recalled.”

 

“The Hardliners are really purging those against them,” the National Security Adviser (NSA) said.

 

“Mr. President, it is edging towards conflict, possibly nuclear conflict, “the Secretary of Defense finally spoke. “George…” Not many people were allowed to call POTUS by his first name.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“We need to send a strong signal of deterrence to our allies. I suggest just unlocking one B-52 which is already in theatre, escorted with fighters. The minute the DPRK sees that craft heading towards them, they won’t budge.”

 

The room was eerily silent. “You want to activate a bomber with nuclear weapons?!”

 

“Mr. President, it is a deterrent. The North Koreans are ready to strike out we need to push them back.” The room turned into a ‘marketplace’ as the NSC members debated over this doomsday option. Finally, the President called order and motioned to Hawkes. “Let’s have it open.”

 

Trying to keep her options out of her facial expressions, Skates sweaty hands fingered the sides of the Football as she was taught. Nothing. “Err…”

 

“Hurry up Commander! This is crisis!” Finally after another try, Skates got past the first part then quickly dialled the daily numerical code. Nothing. Damnit! She thought as the VPOTUS raised his voice again. It finally opened and the SECDEF yanked it open. From then on, Skates was ushered out of view as POTUS drew out his Gold Codes, opened the Major Attack Options booklet and together with SECDEF authenticated and then low beep was emitted.

 

“Mr. President, Mr. Secretary, I confirm your codes,” the Chair of the Joint Chiefs based at the National Military Command Center called via video link. “Sirs, STRATCOM advises that the package will start in one-five, fifteen minutes. JCS out.”

 

“Mr. President...Mr. President…” a NSC staffer called. “Sir we have activity from Korea, the DPRK! They are withdrawing troops from the border and the strike aircraft has returned to base!”

 

“Gentleman, ladies, I think we can really heave a sigh of relief…” POTUS said, then pressed a button under the table. “Can we not have such a scary and almost out-of-this-world scenario next time?”

 

The whole NSC started laughing and senior cabinet members along with the NSA assured the President. As staff exited the alternate command center, VPOTUS mumbled to Skates that she still needed practice. “Yes…sir,” Skates said, her whole body shaking. She then quickly packed up but before she could take a step, she heard POTUS call. Oh super shit, she thought, I ‘m really dead this time.

 

“Mr. President,” Skates tried not the shake but placed the Football on the desk, less she drop it.

 

“Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth Hawkes, right?”

 

“Yes sir?” Please, just condemn my and get over it. No….

 

“Commander, at ease,” POTUS stated rather than ordered, and Skates did so, feeling really small all of a sudden.

 

“How would you like to join me and Laura for dinner?”

 

To Be Continued.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

_Thanks for the non-existent reviews._

_As this is set in the summer of 2003, the POTUS and FLOTUS here is naturally GWB and LB. No, I intentionally did include their full names. In the fictional conversation below, you can see I make GWB a much gentler POTUS than he was in reality._

**Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center**

 

“Er…excuse me Mr. President?” LCDR Elizabeth Hawkes couldn’t believe her ears.

 

“I said, any plans for dinner tonight? How about dining with me and Laura?”

 

The President is inviting me to dinner?! After my poor performance just now?! “Uh...no nothing sir… really it’s very kind of you but I don’t want to intrude,” Skates hands were shivering and she had to place the Football on the table, lest she drop it.

 

“Please, we’ve got the table to ourselves; our daughters are away. It’s a simple dinner.”

 

“Mr. President, the Football…”

 

“I’m sure the WHMO can spare the Football carrier for one evening,” POTUS smiled. “There’s a football carrier 24/7/365, but it shouldn’t be the same officer all the time.” Skates hesitated then blurted out “What do I wear?”

 

“Well, it’s not a state dinner. Just don’t come in your uniform or too casual. Say 7?” POTUS signalled to one of Secret Service agents about dinner arrangement. “See you at seven Commander.” With that, he moved off, the PPD agents immediately surrounding him, forming a cocoon. 

 

What the hell was just happened?! Elizabeth Hawkes wondered.

 

**JAG Headquarters**

**Harm’s office**

**Sometime later**

The phone barely rang its second ring before it was answered. “Commander Rabb’s office, Lieutenant Sims speaking.”

 

“Har…Harriet? Hi, it’s Skates,” came the chirpy voice on the other end.

 

“Heya Skates…uh ma’am, how are doin’?” Harriet asked, remembering the naval aviator out ranked her.

 

“Uh, fine. Is Harm there?”

 

“The Commander actually just left with my husband half an hour ago. You need to talk to him? I can give you his cell.”

 

There was pause on the line. “It’s ok. Say, what time do you get off work. I’ve got a favour to ask.”

 

**The White House**

**State Floor**

**1855 hours**

Skates was shivering more from the prospect of dining with her Commander-in-Chief and his wife rather than from the early summer even weather, which was warmer than any summer she experienced abroad at sea. After the quick rush through DC shops with Harriet Sims blabbering about various frills and styles, Skates settled on a simple light blue dress that reach several inches below her knees. It was a strapped dress but Skates insisted on one where she didn’t have to resort to wearing a strapless or backless or stick on bra. She had selected plain old one-inch heel slip-ons, much to Harriet’s dismay, and had to protest to the young administrative officer effort’ in adding extensive facial make up. With the events of the last week, especially the mystery of Hays’ murder filling her mind, Skates nearly got lost in the White House until a Secret Service agent found her. From the entrance hall, she was guided through several security checks where the female agents saw no humour in Skates’ raising her arms up in surrender for them to pat.

 

No sooner had she stepped into the Family Dining Room did she hear a voice she recognised from watching TV. “Uh, good evening, ma’am,” Skates greeted the First Lady of the United States (FLOTUS), right hand extended, left arm bent 45 degrees and tucking that hand behind her back, just as she was first trained in her NROTC.

 

“Evening, I believe you are Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth Hawkes,” the First Lady answered with a radiant smile. She had done ad simple red shiny dress with pearls running across the short sleeves.

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

“Oh, forget the ma’am. Even I tell the agents not to call me that unless in formal settings. I’m Laura.”

 

“Alright, I’m uh Elizabeth,” Skates didn’t think it would be nice for FLOTUS to know her callsign nor her short name.

 

“Would you like a drink Elizabeth? We have some fruit punch or water over there. I think it’s George’s idea not to have to have alcohol.”

 

How like an naval aviator, Skates thought, then remembered the President was a former Air National Guard pilot and a former alcoholic. Punch in hand, Skates was about to shift to the table when FLOTUS asked, “Are you alright? You look a bit jittery?”

 

“I’m…”

 

“First time on the job always brings out the jitters,” POTUS announced, appearing with a basket of bread and dressed in simple slacks, shirt and a jacket. “Hi, Commander, Darling,” he greeted his wife with kisses on both cheeks. “Soups just about ready,” he said signalling for them to sit. A minute later, a steward appeared and served them traditional Texan Cowboy soup. Skates had tried Texan cuisine in and outside her Navy years, but had never tried this soup not bread slightly spiced. “It’s really lovely, Mr. President.”

 

“My favourite from my hometown, though I don’t get to have it that often.”

 

“What food do you miss when at sea Elizabeth?” FLOTUS asked.

 

“Oh nothing specific really. I’m from Maryland but my family has partly British. I guess I’ll say I’ll miss mom’s cooking. Definitely her lamb hot pot.”

 

“Mum’s food always the best,” POTUS replied, his eyes drifting away.

 

“Have you been home since coming to DC? George, you’ve got to give this girl some time off.”

 

“I…” Skates was a little shocked by FLOTUS’ concern.

 

“She has a critical duty at present but I’m sure she’ll get some good leave and rest. Ah, salad,” POTUS gestured. Skates found the bean salad a little dry but the main course, a generous amount of beef burritos with assorted condiments was definitely heavenly. Skates used the provided cutlery provided until she saw her Commander-in-Chief pick up his burrito with his hands.

 

“We’re a bit casual with dining,” POTUS smiled and took huge bite.

 

“George,” protested FLOTUS, “We’re may be casual but standards.”

 

“But it’s just a nice little dinner and I don’t think my eating habits will go on ZNN tomorrow right Commander?”

 

“Uh no sir,” Skates quickly stammered.

 

“Relax, you’re amongst friends.” Skates still wasn’t and decided the best move was to focus on the meal. She did used her hands initially, but soon reverted to the cutlery as her hands were ‘dirtied’ with guacamole, sour cream and cheese. The burritos filled Skates’ stomach and she was just about to give an indication when suddenly a huge bowl of apple dumplings topped with pecans with a huge scoop ice scream appeared.

 

“Oh my other favourite,” POTUS declared but his wife shook her head. “George, I thought I said fruit salad.”

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll exercise it all off tomorrow,” he laughed as he portioned out the dessert. It wasn’t as sweet as Skates expected and the cinnamon-flavoured ice cream was a good pairing with the dessert.

 

“Coffee anyone?” POTUS asked as the dessert dishes and cutlery were cleared.

 

“I’ll pass; I have to go through my speech at for the new library opening in Norfolk tomorrow,” FLOTUS said.

 

“I’m quite alright Mr. President, Laura thank you…” Skates started when she noticed POTUS eyes.

 

“It’s lovely to meet you Elizabeth; I wish you well on your duties and will definitely catch you later,” FLOTUS said, giving Skates a slight peck on her cheek and kissed her husband on his lips before departing. A cup of coffee replaced FLOTUS and the leader of the free world added a drop of milk and half of teaspoon of sugar before facing his Football carrier.

 

“Hell of a day wasn’t it? I know, Dick or I call him Vice can be very angsty and pressuring at times, same with Rummy, but you did really well.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” Skates acknowledged, still not knowing what this is all about.

 

“I’ve played these sort of games before, well, mostly disaster preparation scenarios, as Governor. Sometimes we do threaten the other side, but not always with that of massive nuclear war. Sometimes, those threats work but are too excessive. So, we just have to go in full.”

 

Like we did in Iraq, and look how that turned out, Skates thought but just sat up.

 

“You know,” POTUS said, picking up drop of coffee and dropping it back down into the cup, “I generally don’t want to physically use these weapons; I don’t think any President would. Nor do I like the idea of them ready to go, 24/7.”

 

“I... sense a ‘but’ coming, sir,” Skates commented. Unless you are going to say you don’t like the idea of a Football carrier then I can return to my good old carrier.

 

“You’re right. But, many circumstances demand they stay as they are. Same with those that help carry the briefcase that forms part of this vital area of national security.”

 

“You didn’t call me for this for this, Mr. President,” Skates braced herself for the expected tidal wave.

 

“No, I sense a great spark in you, Commander. Maybe it’s you’re a naval aviator or something. Sounds funny, but I think you’re going to be one helluva Football carrier.”

 

I may be just a good Football carrier if I know damn know what happened to my predecessor and have this whole mystery solved, she thought.

 

“I don’t expect any unique actions, but just remember, duty, honor country. Not my words of course.”

 

“General MacAthur’s,” Skate responded. She never liked that General’s actions, but remembered his last speech well.

 

Both President and Lieutenant Commander chat a while more before the Commander-in-Chief signalled his desire to retire. “It was a lovely dinner and chat, Mr. President. See you tomorrow.”

 

Escorted out, Skates took a deep breath of fresh DC air and was just about to figure her way back to the barracks when she heard a familiar voice.

 

“Agent Coppinger,” she greeted the Secret Service Agent she first met. Instead of the traditional suit and pants, he was in casual black jeans, shirt and jacket.

 

“Commander Hawkes. If I may say so, you look beautiful.” Skates smiled and hoped there wouldn’t be a question on why she was dressed so.

 

“I’m off duty for tonight,” he indicated at his clothing and the missing earphone that would normally be in his right ear. “I guess you are?”

 

“Uh yes. Just trying to figure how to get back to my barracks at this time.”

 

“I usually spent time off at a DC bar. Not too noisy, alright food and no I don’t get drunk.”

 

Is he? She thought. “Are you asking me out?” Skates blurted  

 

“Er…” The Secret Service Agent paused. “Well, the usual other agents who join me are somewhere else and…”

 

“Ok, I’m on,” Skates responded then added. “So long as it’s not too much.”

 

To Be Continued.

  


End file.
